The Friendship Principle
by lafemmedisparu
Summary: They've been friends for nearly two decades, but things are about to get very, very complicated. AU, eventual Olitz. Title tentative for now.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Notes:** _So this is my first foray into the Scandalverse, so bear with me._

 _The idea of this story is not mine; I give credit the awesome **candi4olitz** on Tumblr for bestowing me with the conception of this plot. During several conversations, she had encouraged me to try my hand at writing an Olitz fic, and finally I caved. So here I am._

 _I always welcome feedback, so if I've tickled your fancy, or if you have any suggestions as far as storyline or even music, drop me a line!_

 _ **"...lashing out like the Crab she was":** A reference to the zodiac sign, Cancer._

 _ **P.S.:** The movie that they're going to see in the flashback scene is  She's All That, and the only reason why I picked it was because of the timing of that particular scene. Well that and my older sister and I went to see it in the theater when it came out and she had me cracking up with her commentary the entire movie. Good times._

 _P.P.S.: It was pointed out to me by a reviewer that the transition into the flashback scene wasn't very clear, so I fixed it. Thanks, **trininads**! :) _

* * *

**Songs in this Chapter:** _"I Wanna Be Your Man" by Zapp and Roger, "Doo Wop (That Thing)" by Lauryn Hill, & "My Boo" by Ghosttown DJs_

* * *

 **One**

On a scale from cherry cough medicine to her aunt's sweet potato pie, this date was a choke-inducing _disaster_ with a horrible aftertaste.

Friday night had brought the obligation of this societal norm, the First Date. For most, the First Date often hung out in the same friend group as Nerves, Excitement, and Hope. However, for our lovely protagonist, any pleasant or positive emotions were left on a desert island with no date of return. All she felt were Dread and Exasperation.

As far as Olivia Pope was aware, meeting someone for the first time was not supposed to feel like a root canal without local anesthesia.

The irksome outing had been set up by her cousin Mia. She loved Mia, she adored Mia. When she needed someone to remember something obscure like the last time Johnny Gill came out with an album, Mia was front and center—and with a tracklist—but when it came to the opposite sex…oh Mamma Mia.

Where did she find this guy? Olivia thought. And how in the world did she think we had anything in common? Except being part of the same species. She raised an eyebrow as her date picked a piece of meatball from his teeth and examined it. Barely.

Not to mention she was sure he hadn't updated his wardrobe since Zapp and Roger came out with "I Wanna Be Your Man."

However, promises were promises—and Olivia Carolyn Pope was a Woman of her Word. Despite her wanting to chuck that damn Word down the drain of the bathroom beckoning from across the room—and possibly execute a CIA-agent-esque escape out of the tiny window—she remained in her chair and pushed around the mushrooms on her half-full plate. Where were those black holes from the Acme warehouse when you needed them?

As if a herald from a merciful deity, Olivia's phone trilled. She fished it out with the same urgency an asthmatic would with their inhaler during an attack. She didn't even look at the caller ID. She also ignored the disapproving look her date— _what was his name again?_ —gave her as she clicked send to answer the call.

"Hello?" she said into the mouthpiece.

A hushed masculine voice came on the line. "Liv? Did I call at a bad time?"

Olivia suppressed the grin that nearly spread across her face, and instead fixed her features into a worried frown. _When Opportunity Knocketh, We Shall Answer the Call._ If it wasn't a scripture or a rule somewhere, it should have been. "Mama? Mama are you okay, you're breaking up…"

On the other end of the call, the male sucked in a breath. "Oh shit—you're still there aren't you?"

"No Mama this is not the best time," Olivia went on in a louder than normal speaking voice. "What? Did you say that Granny tripped down the stairs again? I told her not to do the Cha Cha Slide on the landing—" At this part she passed Myron-Maybe-Byron an attempt at an apologetic smile and began to gather her things. "No Mama I was not trying to – no, I am not saying Granny shouldn't have any fun before you put her in the home…"

She heaved a long-suffering sigh and rolled her eyes up at the sky. She blurted out an apology, citing a family emergency by way of her Granny's phantom broken hip.

She didn't even linger to see if he'd gotten all the meat out of his teeth.

* * *

A few moments later, when she was safely behind the wheel of her car, she brought the phone up to her ear.

"Do I still have to play the role of Maya Lewis or did your diversion tactic work?"

Olivia sighed and stuck her key in the ignition. "It worked, so you can put your Kelly Rowland wig away." She placed her head on the steering wheel and closed her eyes.

"You know, on behalf of all men everywhere, no would have been a cleaner option," the caller quipped.

She chuckled and lifted her head. "And on behalf of women everywhere, I would like you to remember how pushy you menfolk can be."

"Do you really want to have this debate, Liv?"

"That depends, how badly do you want to lose, Mr. Rhodes Scholar?"

His laugh brought back memories of sun-washed summers and delirious study binges into the twilight hours – some of her most treasured times. "Fine, let's start this conversation over." His voice took on a friendly cadence. "Hello, Olivia."

A warm and cozy feeling washed over her, like the weight of a beloved blanket. In the wake of the unpalatable date, this sensation relaxed her tense muscles, smoothed her prickled nerves. In this moment, the state of her personal life mattered very little. All that mattered was the voice on the other end of the line.

What use did she have for other men when she had him?

"Hello Fitz," she greeted her best friend.

* * *

So how did this whole predicament begin?

Well, a _tiny_ mistake involving an inopportune sales ad and a misplaced file—

 _Wait._

We need to go back farther.

All the way back to the _beginning._

* * *

 _About fifteen years ago. January 30, 1999._

It was a snowy January evening on the eve of Olivia Pope's sixteenth year. The soon-to-be birthday girl was enjoying a game of Pacman in the arcade while she and her friends waited for the movie to start. The din of conversation and laughter mingled with the sound of Lauryn Hill singing a cautionary tale. The oil of popcorn and the fizz of carbonated drinks made her stomach grumble.

"Hey birthday girl?" Olivia looked up as game over flashed on the video screen. Freshly turned seventeen-year-old Michelle Johnson neared her with her fifteen-year-old sister Mia and the redheaded sixteen-year-old Abigail Whelan in tow. "You ready? We better get in line for popcorn before it gets too long."

"We've got plenty of time. You already know nobody pays attention to the credits," Mia pointed out.

"Look, that may be the case, but I'm not spending the whole movie trying to look around someone's head because we got stuck with horrible seats," Abby groused. "I am only here to see Paul Walker's fine ass and I will not be deterred."

"Look at you using a vocab word!" Olivia teased. She fell into between Abby and Mia as they walked out of the arcade and into the lobby of the theater. "It looks like you were actually paying attention in English class. Quick, what's a dangling participle?"

Abby rolled her eyes as Mia snickered. "It's on the same plate as a knuckle sandwich."

"Y'all better stop tripping," Michelle chided them. "I don't think they'd let us come back if we got blood on the tile."

Abby slung an arm around Olivia's shoulders. The four teens positioned themselves in line for snacks, Michelle and Mia first and Abby and Olivia behind. "Liv knows I'm just playing. Besides, I know her weakness, so she can't be angry with me for long."

Olivia frowned at Abby in confusion, and Abby raised her eyebrows suggestively, gesturing toward the candy display. When Olivia gasped in delight, Mia shook her head. "Oh lord. I forgot about the Buncha Crunch. We're buying you your own popcorn, girl. I can't afford to get chocolate on these pants."

"Who told you to wear _yellow pants_ in the middle of winter anyway?" Michelle demanded with an arch of her brow.

"The same person who told you you could wear sunglasses on the top of your head but the sun's been down for like five hours," Mia shot back. "And for your information, it's _goldenrod._ "

Olivia snorted loudly, and everyone else fell into laughter. "Mia, what the hell is goldenrod? Like seriously, were you playing with Moni's 64-pack of Crayola again? I can already hear it now: _the asphalt was the color of slate and the sky was a perfect cerulean_."

"What? It sounds better than plain old yellow."

"I personally like the sound of chartreuse myself."

The deep voice from behind them cleaved through their conversation. The four of them turned to find a tall, dark-haired young man with amused blue eyes clad in jeans and a letterman's jacket over a jade green henley. Cursive lettering on the left breast of the jacket revealed his last name to be Grant.

For a humming moment, no one said anything; the girls absorbed the sight of the specimen in their midst, from the head of curls to the dark shoes he stood upon. Mia's eyebrows furrowed, for she was instantly suspicious. Michelle's look was cautiously appraising, while Abby appeared openly and unabashedly willing to divest him of his clothing.

But it was Olivia who ultimately spoke. Something about the way he looked at her made her feel comfortable, at ease. "Hopefully it's just the sound of it," she countered. "Because you would look horrible in that color."

The young man took no offense to her comment; the corners of his mouth turned up into a small smile. "Thanks for the advice. And you are…?"

Mia stepped in, lashing out like the Crab* she was. "Too Young for You," she broke in, taking her cousin by the arm. "If you would excuse us…"

Mia led her gaping cousin up to the counter to place an order for snacks. "Mia—what was _that_ for?" Olivia hissed.

"That guy is obviously too old to be talking to us," Mia hissed back. "Just look at him!" Olivia started to look back and Mia shook her head frantically. "Not for real, Liv! He'll know we're talking about him!"

"I'm sure he already knows," Olivia informed her. "He's standing like two feet away."

Mia waved a hand in dismissal. "Forget it, let's just order. Do you want the medium or large bucket of popcorn?"

"What kind of question is that? You already know I want the large. And the jumbo box of Buncha Crunch for pain and suffering."

As Mia gave their order to the associate behind the counter and Abby suggested just to combine everything, Olivia hazarded a look over her shoulder to see if the guy was still looking at them. He had been joined by two friends wearing the same jacket he was. He was in the middle of a sentence when he paused and raised his eyes as if her stare had weight. His friends talked around him but for a beat, he didn't engage them.

Something fluttered within her when their eyes met. A slight mortification shot through her as she realized that she was enthralled with this young man she had never seen before. She gave him a small smile before turning away and willing herself to forget him.

* * *

Before they walked out into the cold night after the movie, Olivia felt a certain sensation and groaned. Abby looked at her bemusedly, and she announced she was going to the bathroom before the ride home.

"We'll be waiting in the car," Michelle told her, keys already in hand.

Abby gave her a quick smirk. "Getting it warmed for the birthday girl!"

Olivia shook her head with amusement and disappeared into the bathroom. She took care of the nagging urge and washed her hands. So preoccupied was she, thinking about what sort of things her new age would bring, that she didn't pay attention as she was walking out.

One moment she was on her feet—the next, she had landed soundly on her ass.

"Ow," she managed. She opened her mouth to lodge a complaint with the form that had been in her path, but a pair of contrite blue eyes appeared in her vision. The diatribe died on her lips as the features sparked recognition.

 _It's him,_ Olivia thought. _From earlier. He's here._

A curl had fallen into his forehead and his face was flushed with embarrassment. His mouth had been parted, and he would have asked if she was all right, except…well, the ability to form words had fled him momentarily. He seemed to be unduly focused upon something on her face. _Oh no, do I have chocolate or popcorn in my teeth?_

So when he successfully uttered a word, all he could manage was, "Hi."

She seemed to be blessed with the same affliction. "Hi," she returned simply.

Above their heads, a new song floated out of speakers. Later, when they were older, they would laugh and joke about this moment without admitting to the other how enthralled they were.

 ** _Boy you should know that_**  
 ** _I've got you on my mind_**  
 ** _Your secret admirer_**  
 ** _I've been watching you_**

"Ohmigod, Olivia—what happened?"

The sound of Mia's panicked voice broke the spell. He clasped her hand and helped her to her feet hastily. She dusted herself off and Mia came to her side like a protective pet. She laid a fierce look upon the tall young man and held out her hand, palm flat.

"Driver's license, please," Mia said briskly.

They both spoke at once. "And why should I—?"

"Mia, for God's sake—"

Mia would not be deterred, it seemed, either. She could be more tenacious than Abby when she got going. Without warning, she leaned over and plucked his wallet from his pocket.

"Hey!" he protested.

She gave him back the wallet, minus his license. She peered at the card, then her eyes flicked up at him over her glasses. After a second, she handed that back to him as well.

"Mhmm," she muttered. "Nice to meet you, Fitzgerald Thomas Grant. Now, if you'll excuse us, we gotta go before we miss our curfew and you catch a case."

They were a couple of steps away when he said, unexpectedly, "It's good she has someone like you to protect her. Otherwise that would be very annoying." That comment put an _Excuse me, whatchu talkin' 'bout Willis?_ look on Mia's face and Olivia smiled. He smiled back at her and strode up to them. "Good night and be careful getting home." His gaze lingered on the soon-to-be birthday girl. "Olivia."

As he walked toward the exit, Mia shouted, "See you around, Creeper!"

Over his shoulder he tossed back, "You too, Maneater!"

Mia rolled her eyes but Olivia snickered. When he disappeared, Olivia remarked, "You are horrible, Mia. Really, did you have to look at his license?"

"Hey—if you come up missing, I know where he lives. These may be size eleven pants but I will take him down at the shins, he _don't even **know**_."

Olivia shook her head in disbelief. It seemed that her cousin had taken the adage _Be prepared_ a little too seriously. "Mia, we probably won't see him again so you really are getting agitated for nothing."

But little did they both know, that moment would be the start of a beautiful friendship.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Notes:** _Y'all. No, for serious. Y'all. Are. Amazing._

 _The outpouring of support and interest in this story has been staggering. I can't even describe how bolstering that is. Each and everyone of you who reviewed, Favorited and followed: you are the wind beneath my wings. No that was not a Beaches reference. Okay, you caught me, it was._

 _Apologies for this update taking so long! I have literally been toggling tabs back and forth between my POTC fanfic (weird mix of fandoms, right?) and this story. TCW is a **BEAST** in comparison. For TFP, I am going to keep myself on a weekly updating schedule since I don't see myself churning out 10,000-word chapters, so updates will come on Friday or Saturday, or Sunday if I've got a busy weekend._

 _I loosely based the Johnson sisters (Michelle, Mia, and Monique) on my two sisters and me (Michelle and Monique are my sisters' middle names) though some things are exaggerated for entertainment value. You'll see what I mean when you meet Monique. I am going to use as many characters from canon as I can, but not everyone. Certain characters I don't think I will have the knack for writing, so I will leave them out._

 _There is little indication at this time as to where various scenes take place merely because I am still deciding. LOL I know, that's bad. But I did reveal their ages sort of; the age gap is narrower than it is in canon._

 _The **Not Today, Satan** mug is real and made by Blk Proverbs; I bought one for my brother and he loves it._

 _Again, if anyone has any suggestions, concerns, or just wanna chat - drop me a line!_

* * *

 **Disclaimer:** _I forgot this last time but...Scandal and any related characters ain't mine. Any unrecognizable and/or cringe-worthy characters **are** mine. _

* * *

**Songs in this Chapter:** _"Tell Me" by Groove Theory, "Apple Pie" by Virgo, "Two Occasions" by The Deele, "Saturday Love" by Nicole Wray_

* * *

 **Two**

"How did you find this guy anyway?"

Olivia shook her head as she parked her car in its designated spot in the resident garage. " _I_ didn't. One of my cousins set up an online dating profile for me without telling me and made me this blind date. I have no control over the account." She exited the car and slammed the door. "That obviously was a mistake."

There was a long pause during which Olivia boarded the elevator and selected the number for her floor. "You don't care much for dating," Fitz pointed out.

"I didn't. I don't," Olivia amended. She stepped off of the elevator and onto her floor. "But I was persuaded."

"And just how much torture did it take to convince you? Did they have to take out the thumbscrews and the rack?"

She recalled the conversation with Mia and her little sister with a exasperated sigh. Underneath the layer of supposed compromise had been the desire to make Monique Ciarra Johnson, in her ardent selling of her idea, merely shut up. _What do you have to lose?_ Her stomach lining, almost nearly.

"It certainly felt like it," Olivia replied, recalling Monique following her around for two days before Mia intervened and Olivia finally agreed.

She went through the motions of unlocking the door, tossing the keys on the table nearby. Hanging her jacket on the hook. It didn't feel completely like home until she had kicked off her shoes and flexed her toes on the plush carpet. Dropping down onto her couch in her living room, she let out a sigh that was filled with some parts satisfaction, some parts fatigue.

"I know that sound. Home, sweet home."

Olivia chuckled at the voice coming out of the speaker of her phone and her head fell to the back of the couch. "It's been a long week, Fitz. And pointless, annoying dinner with that guy didn't help." Restless, she rose, picked up her shoes, and turned to walk toward her bedroom. "And where are you exactly? Shouldn't you be asleep?"

"I'm in a hotel room, actually."

Light filled her bedroom when she hit the switch. She threw the phone down on the bed as she undressed and donned more comfortable clothes. "Please tell me that you don't have three cheerleaders in the bed and you're pacing the room in a Hugh Hefner robe with black lace thongs thrown on the lampshade."

"Okay, Miss Judgmental, I won't. And for your information, there are three _stewardesses_ in my bed. And the thongs are hot pink." Olivia scoffed and rolled her eyes, secretly hoping that he was joking. At her scoff, he sighed and admitted, "Fine, fine. I was just joking. I'm here in this cramped hotel room in Missouri all alone with nothing to do except count all the strange stains on the ceiling and make up stories about them."

Something about that admission relieved her. She chose to think it was because she felt that Fitz was more worthy of more than a tryst with three strangers. "I am not even going to ask. Instead, I am going to ask you the more important question..."

"Is there a footprint on the ceiling?" Fitz offered, in jest.

"No..." She collapsed on the bed onto her back. She felt like she was a teenager again, talking to a sweetheart. _Ahem._ Best friend. Her long dark hair fanned out around her head and she rested her hands on her stomach, right above her belly button. The phone was located a couple of inches away from her left shoulder. "Why are you in Missouri?"

She heard him exhale as if he had lowered himself into a seat. "Trying a case. A very, very exhausting case."

"No details?"

"No details," Fitz confirmed. "But...there is something I _can_ tell you."

She arched a brow as if he could see her. "This isn't going to be about the footprint on the ceiling, is it?"

"Are you really wondering? I mean, I could tell you. See, there were this group of frat guys—"

"Fitzgerald Thomas Grant," Olivia began in an threatening tone, "if you don't tell me what you were going to tell me, I am going to hang up the phone right now."

"Are you, Ms. Def Comedy Jam? You're very witty for so late in the evening."

"Hey, remember when Harrison went on _Showtime at the Apollo_?" Olivia reminded him, referring to her other aunt's only child. "I wrote some of those jokes, Grant. I'm fucking hilarious. Certainly funnier than you."

Fitz began laughing, belly-rolling laughs that made it hard for him to speak clearly. "So _that's_ why he got booed off stage. This explains everything."

Olivia fumed for exactly three seconds before she fell into chuckles along with him. "I can't stand you, Fitzgerald Grant."

"Of course you can't. That's why you're probably in bed right now in your favorite panda pjs that your aunt bought you for Christmas when you were nineteen."

 _Shit._ How could he tell? She glanced down at her body, seeing the silk pajamas that her Aunt Carmen had given her. "I can't believe that you actually remember that. That was a decade ago."

His voice dropped an octave. "I remember a lot of things about you, Olivia Pope."

She played with the drawstring on her pajama pants, warmth spreading through her her mouth curved into a smile. "You were going to tell me something when we got side-tracked."

"I was. So...it looks like you'll be seeing me soon."

She sat up suddenly and swiped up the phone. "Are you serious?" she asked excitedly. They hadn't seen each other in nearly a year because his caseload had prevented it. She realized how much she missed him when presented with the thought that she would see him again. "When is 'soon'? I need details."

* * *

Thousands of miles to the east and, due to the often inconvenient invention of time zones, a couple of hours later, Fitzgerald Grant put his phone away and looked out of the window of his tenth-story hotel room. He had just finished exchanging good nights with Olivia, and as soon as the call had ended, he had entered the plans they had set up on his calendar so they would not be forgotten. He found it exhausting that he lived by his calendar these days and felt lost without it.

It was after midnight, and he couldn't sleep. He was not a sound sleeper, a dubious talent honed by years of late nights coupled with early mornings leading to days where he was required to be functional, but today had been its own brand of stress. After the mentally taxing work day, he allowed his racing mind to meander down paths of nostalgia.

After his conversation with Olivia, his focus strayed toward the moment their friendship truly began.

* * *

 _About twelve years ago. July 18, 2002._

The beach had been packed, but one peek at the thermometer showed the reason why: _it was fucking hot._

Olivia and her two cousins along with Abby occupied four beach chairs under two huge umbrellas in the sand by the ocean. Michelle and Abby were taking off the tanks and shorts they had worn to the beach while Olivia deftly fashioned her hair into a French braid. Mia, on the other hand, sat stubbornly in her chair, book and bag of Flamin' Hot Cheetos in her lap, tasty beverage at her side upright on the sand.

"Mia," Michelle groused, hands on hips. "Are you for real?"

The freshly-turned seventeen-year-old looked at her older sister over the tops of her glasses. "What?"

Olivia finished her quick braid and tucked the end of it underneath her hair. "Mia Corrine. You're dressed like you're post-menopausal and have been living where they don't get direct sunlight. At this rate, you are going to attract all the heat out here and turn it to Antarctica."

Mia fumed, adjusting the top of her terry-cloth tube maxi dress, in _black_ no less. The multi-colored straps of her swimsuit were the only thing visible amid the long column of back. And she wore flats. Her _toes_ weren't even showing. And to top it all off, she wore a hat with enough brim to serve as a restaurant awning. At least _that_ wasn't black.

"I know what I should've gotten you for your birthday," Abby remarked, showing off her summer-I've-arrived body in a strappy aqua two-piece. "A nun's wimple."

Michelle guffawed. Mia slanted her an annoyed look and sucked on her bottle of Tahitian Treat until the plastic cracked. "Just so y'all are aware: I am not here to swim. I am not here to surf. And I am definitely _not_ here for playing with some damn Frisbee. I am merely here for the fresh air and the company."

"But it's your birthday, Mia," Olivia reminded her. "You can't just sit here and read"—she adjusted the book in Mia's lap so she could read the title—" _The Awakening_ in the middle of a beautiful day like this."

Abby made a face. "Kate Chopin? Mia, put that away. It's a complete downer. You know what happens at the end right? I mean, everybody knows what happens at the end. It's ridiculous. She goes off into the ocean and kills herself—"

Mia tossed the book in the air exasperatedly. "Thank you very much Abby for ruining the ending _I hadn't gotten to yet!_ "

Abby slipped her shades on smoothly and smirked. "Oh, anytime."

In a royal purple halter bikini, Michelle finished tying a yellow scarf around her head to minimize work needed on her hair later. "I don't know what it is you're tripping about, Mia."

Olivia waved a hand. "Leave her to it. If she wants to come join us, she will." She rose to her feet. "The ocean awaits us, ladies."

Abby stood and adjusted her bikini top. "Let's get wet!"

The three of them dashed off, leaving Mia shaking her head at them and picking up _The Awakening_. She glowered at it, recalling Abby's words, before settling on _Mama Day_ instead. That one couldn't be ruined because she already knew the ending but she loved the book anyway.

She was fifty pages into the novel when a gust of wind came and displaced the umbrella. As Mia was trying to fix it, her large hat came flying off her head. Cursing, she hopped up after it. When Michelle, Olivia and Abby came back to shore, they discovered Mia searching the expanse for her hat.

"Looking for this, I'm guessing?"

The girls turned to find a tall man clad in green swim trunks. In his hand was Mia's displaced hat. Because of his well-defined pectoral muscles and envy-inspiring abs, everyone but Mia hardly noticed the accessory. In fact, Abby was very close to salivating.

Oblivious to the hormones in the air, Mia stepped forward with a hasty thank you and accepted her hat. She pushed it down on her head as he began to turn and walk away. Reunited with her hat, certain synapses began firing in Mia's head. She stepped forward and raised her voice to be heard over the waves and the laughter.

"Hey, wait just a second. Haven't I seen you before?" Before he could answer, she lowered her glasses and squinted at him. After a moment, she gasped and slipped her glasses back to their normal position. "You! Creeper!"

The night at the movies came back to Olivia and she blushed. She had thought about that moment, the sound of his voice, the hue of his eyes, quite regularly for several months before time had faded the sentiment. She mentally compared the faded memory of him she had in her mind with the person turning back towards them now. His hair was a bit longer, curls fluttering in the breeze, and he was wearing less (Abby's influence most likely...or was it?) but he remained largely unchanged.

"Nice to know you remember me," said Fitzgerald Grant wryly.

"Well, luckily for you, most of us are legally adults this time," Olivia teased.

"Cute," he shot back. He looked to Mia, who was conspicuous in her choice of clothing next to the others. "So you got some disfiguring skin disease or something?" When Mia frowned, he added, "Not judging you if you do. It's just..."

"She just decided to dress like she was busted out of a convent for her birthday," Abby told him. Mia glared at her. "She's the minor in the group."

"It's your birthday? Well, Happy Birthday. May you live to gobble up men several years your senior alive for another year." Down the beach, someone called out his name and he glanced in that direction, taking a couple of steps backwards. "That's my friend, I gotta go." He paused as something occurred to him. "Hey—have you ladies eaten yet? We've got some hot dogs and burgers going over here—"

Abby and Michelle shared an excited look, not noticing that Fitz's gaze had rested upon Olivia. But Mia noticed, as she had not stopped watching him since he had approached them.

"—and I promise that we'll act with the utmost propriety," Fitz hastily assured them.

A woman clad in a metallic bathing suit with a bandeau top setting off her mocha skin ran up at that moment. She took in the girls from behind her glasses before tilting her head up at Fitz. She was nearly a foot shorter than he was.

"Are you trying to lure these poor, unsuspecting girls into your web, Mr. Grant?" she teased.

"Well, I can hardly do that when there's a cop around," Fitz responded. He turned back to Olivia, Mia, Michelle and Abby who regarded the newcomer with varying degrees of curiosity. "Ladies, this is Officer Dawn Richardson."

Abby gaped at her. "You're a cop?"

"Well, there's hardly any place to put the badge in these things," Dawn joked.

"Not to mention, you wouldn't flaunt anything less than a gold shield," Fitz said.

"I'm working on that, Grant. Just a couple more months." Dawn gestured to the quartet. "Come on and make yourselves a plate. We've got plenty of food and I am in need of some female companionship."

Abby asked what the ratio was between males and females exactly and had Dawn laughing. As Abby and Michelle dragging Mia followed Dawn over to where the food and fun were, Olivia and Fitz remained in place. Their eyes locked, and she glanced back at their stuff to avoid the strange feeling his gaze gave her.

"Um, someone needs to gather our things," Olivia stated, feeling awkward.

Fitz stepped forward. "I'll help you, I don't mind."

Olivia led him to their stuff and began packing everything up except for Michelle's cellphone and keys. Fitz had closed the umbrellas when suddenly he stopped and laughed to himself.

Olivia zipped her beach bag and peered up at him. "What's so funny?"

Fitz held up Mia's bag of Flamin' Hot Cheetos. "I'm just remembering an epic run-in I had with these things in college."

Olivia smirked and started swinging bags over her shoulder so she could get a couple of the chairs. "You realize that you have to tell the tale of this so-called epic run-in now, right?"

"You want me to tell you the most embarrassing thing that happened to me?" Fitz asked, resting the umbrellas on his shoulder while he picked up the other chairs.

She gave a nonchalant shrug and started walking toward the parking lot. "Unless you're chicken."

Something came into his face then, a hint of masculine challenge. She was baiting him, and he knew it. Even more, she knew he knew it, but she made no move to take it back. "I am most certainly _not_ chicken."

"So prove it. What happened then?"

And as he told her the story, something between them knit together and held. So when she opened Michelle's trunk to allow him to place their stuff inside for safekeeping she didn't feel like an eighteen-year-old speaking with someone five years her senior. She felt like someone nailing the first two pieces of wood together for the foundation upon which their friendship would be built.

* * *

 _Present day._

His mind finished the playback, leaving him with the phantom scents of the ocean and her skin. For years, his embarrassment had always trumped any other observations or impressions of that moment. Until now.

At thirty-five years old, Fitzgerald Thomas Grant was in the prime of his life. Years and years of schooling had yielded a plum position at a prestigious law firm, and after twelve years of hard work, Fitz sensed a change coming. One of the partners was planning something huge, and in the meantime, they were allowing him to take more important cases. The rumors maintained that they were planning to choose a new partner.

Inwardly, Fitz hoped with all his might that they would choose him. Outwardly, he stepped up his game and did everything he was asked.

His career was something he was adept at navigating; his personal life was a bit different. He could tell a difference between the days he was merely a student and when he became an attorney; he'd had so much energy, being able to juggle school assignments and dates with women with ease. Now, he was completely immersed in his work, and rarely went out socially without it being connected to the firm somehow. Olivia Pope remained one of his only close friends he had not acquired through work.

 _Twelve years,_ he mused, rising from the couch and climbing into bed. Had it been twelve years already? It alternatively seemed like no time had passed at all and they had known each other forever.

He abruptly stopped the thought before it could begin. Olivia was his _friend_ , and he should regard her as such. There were boundaries where friends were concerned, he believed. She deserved to be respected and revered...

However...he could feel himself straining against that boundary more as time passed by.

This next trip would be telling, he realized, and closed his eyes to fall asleep.

* * *

The next morning, Olivia barged into the kitchen in the apartment of Mia Johnson and slammed her bag down on the counter without preamble.

On Saturday mornings, the cousins went for a run. After a particularly heinous breakup a handful of years ago had prompted emotional weight gain, Mia was arduously trying to slim down, and Olivia proved to be great motivator. Generally, Olivia was a bit more amicable, getting her habitually slothful cousin motivated for exercise; however, even after her conversation with Fitz the night before, she had quite the bone to pick.

The groggy, bespectacled young woman leaning on the counter choked on her tea and set down her black _Not Today, Satan_ mug with an audible clank.

 _"Excusez **moi** —?"_ Mia began, demonstrating two out of only ten words she knew in French. Her glasses were steamed up from the tea and she ripped them off her face to clean and clear with a corner of her shirt.

"Don't even start with me, Mia," Olivia snapped.

Mia recoiled and placed a hand over her chest. "What is the matter with you? Shouldn't you be in a better mood?"

"Oh right. So I guess a dinner date with a guy channeling one of the male singers from Shalamar would put anyone in a splendid mood."

At that moment, Mia froze. Then she smacked her forehead, muttering under her breath as she stomped down the hall. A few moments later, Olivia heard her banging on a door. She guessed from the distance away that it was the bathroom.

The voice that came through the closed door was laden with attitude and impertinence. "What you want? I am _trying_ to pee."

Mia fumed at the wood. "Just get your ass out here. And don't use up my damn hand soap either!" She re-entered the kitchen with a huge sigh and looked at Olivia with contrition. "Liv. Girl. I'm _so_ sorry." She crossed the floor in her black and white New Balances to place her hands on her cousin's shoulders. "Tell me everything. I need to know. Unload your burdens, child. On a scale from Morris Chestnut to Jerome from _Martin_ —exactly how bad was this date?"

Olivia opened her mouth to explain, but the door down the hall slammed open abruptly and cut her off. Mia shifted to glare at the petite young woman who appeared the doorway.

"I better still have some soap left, Monique," Mia snapped.

Monique Johnson appeared affronted. "You don't have to be so _**mean**_." Mia rolled her eyes. _Dramatic ass._ "You asked for my presence, so what do you want?"

Mia set her mouth in a line. "Byron Carter. Explain."

 _So that was his name,_ Olivia thought sourly. She became even more sour when Monique suddenly looked confused. "What about him? He was a total hot mess."

"So how did he end up on a date with Olivia last night?"

Monique looked like she swallowed a goldfish. "Because I must have mixed up the messages?" Mia's mouth puckered and her face looked stony. Olivia pinched the bridge of her nose. "Look, what do you expect, I'm human okay? _Family Feud_ was on! And then this ad came on for boot socks and you _know_ how many boots I have and I dropped my blueberry muffin—"

"Lawdy baby jesus," Mia muttered. Louder, she said, "Not only did you waste Olivia's time, but you made all of us look like fools." She gestured to their cousin. "You see this woman? Gold standard. And the guy _I_ chose was of her caliber."

"Well..." Monique lifted her shoulder in a shrug. "There's no need to be mad. I mean, she got a free meal out of it."

Olivia Carolyn Pope was hardly the type to engage in a physical altercation, but even the most polished, well-mannered people could be pushed to their breaking point.

Mia spied the gleam in her eyes and only had time to think two words: _oh shit_. Before Olivia could lunge, Mia grabbed Olivia and dragged her away, promising her wine and gourmet popcorn as they put the door between themselves and the seemingly unrepentant Monique before one or both of them ended up in jail.

* * *

Mia shook her head as she walked with Olivia out of the elevator and into the lobby. Olivia had calmed herself on the ride down. "Next time I talk you and myself into listening to Monique, do us both a favor please put your Pimp Named Slickback cap on and slap the taste out of my mouth."

"Oh don't worry, I won't forget," Olivia promised archly. Trying to rid herself of her ire, she quickly changed the subject. "So how are things going with Loverboy?"

Mia's response was an epic eyeroll and a petulant raspberry.

"That good, huh?"

Mia scoffed. "I am so achingly close to committing assault by frying pan that my fingers twitch every time he speaks. You know how I feel about kitchen felonies, Olivia. You know how Mama Carmen brought us up, the kitchen is our Lord, Savior and Holy Ghost. We swear on the name of the Holy Cookbook, amen. She would roll over and convulse on the ground if she knew what was going through my mind."

Olivia had her first laugh of the day. "Mia. It can't be that bad. You have a guy that likes you enough to stand being in the kitchen with your perfectionist ass. Consider yourself lucky."

Mia nudged her cousin. "Excuse me, ma'am—don't even cast that stone as if you aren't just as particular as I am. See, look at you." She gestured to Olivia's color-coordinated running outfit. "I don't even know how you _find_ shoelaces them color. John Witherspoon would salute you with a pelvic thrust and a _Bang, bang, bang!_ "

"Mia Corrine, you are a mess." Olivia laughed as they exited the building and emerged into the sunny morning. She fell into a lunge to warm up her muscles and Mia followed suit. "I think we're going to bump it up to three miles today."

Mia groaned as her body began to protest. "Are you serious? Three miles? Do you remember what happened last Saturday?"

"And that's because you overdid the pierogies at dinner the night before, you were weighed down by all the starches and fats."

Mia straightened to stretch her arms. "But it was _so_ delicious."

Olivia frowned at her in disapproval. "Ten of them though?" Mia hung her head as Olivia hopped up and began to run in place. "Come on, Johnson. Let's go. Work it off. Don't be a slacker. Step it up."

Mia emitted a frustrated screech but followed Olivia as she sprinted away. She eventually caught up with her cousin and they ran for a few minutes before Olivia spoke.

"So..." Mia looked at her, waiting for her to finish. "Guess who called me last night?"

"Idris Elba?" Mia hedged, tone hopeful.

Olivia panted out a laugh. "No, sadly not. I wish though. Fitz called me last night."

Mia grinned. Over the years her opinion of Fitz had changed, and with increased age, she considered him a friend. "What? You talked to Creeper? How he doing? How his mama and them?"

Olivia shook her head, her ebony ponytail swishing across the back of her shoulders. "Mia, you gotta stop calling him that. We're not teenagers anymore and it's disrespectful. He has a _name_. An actual name, Mia."

"Fitzgerald Thomas Grant the _Third_ ," Mia recited in her Carlton Banks voice. In her normal voice, she added, "But Creeper rolls off the tongue though. And used with the right inflection, it comes across as affectionate. You know, like Pookie, or Boo-Boo..."

"Yeah, if you're talking about a pedophile."

The pair side-stepped a young man on a bicycle. "The dude was almost the legal age to drink talking to a _fifteen_ -year-old. What the hell was I supposed to call him, Romeo? This ain't fair Verona, Livvy dear, and I don't see you making yourself into a pincushion for love."

Olivia gritted her teeth and picked up the pace. If Mia was going to be stubborn, she was going to suffer. "You're supposed to call him Fitz, Mia. _Fiiiiiiitz._ Now repeat it like the good sense I know my aunt tried to teach you."

A red-faced Mia huffed and puffed, looking like she wanted to collapse at the first sign of mercy. "Look, Liv, don't make me say Fitz right now. It rhymes with Ritz and all it's doing is making me think of buttery crackers and that bomb-ass chicken salad with the grapes and the almonds I got chilling in the fridge for lunch." And she eyed Olivia when something occurred to her. "And furthermore, the man still calls _me_ Maneater, does he not? Don't _I_ have a name?"

Olivia frowned at her. "But you like being called Maneater."

Mia gave a satisfied nod. "Damn straight." After a pause, she asked, "So what'd he have to say? They promote him yet?"

"He didn't say. But he'll be in town in a couple of weeks—"

Mia brightened. "Aw snap son! We're having dinner, right? He's gotta have dinner. I gotta make something. And we can have some people over, get some wine, make it all grown up and shit. It's a shame that Abby is out of town and Michelle is still on the cruise with her hubby. It could have been like a reunion. But Harrison's around, I know he'll want to come." She huffed out a breath, spirits much higher than they were. "Leave it to me, Liv. I got this."

Olivia leveled a stern look upon her sidelong. "Just make sure Monique has nothing to do with it."

Mia made a face and met Olivia's stare looking like she had swallowed an earthworm. "Agreed."


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Notes:** _So. A lot of the reviews of chapter two posed the question of when Olivia and Fitz are going to get together and/or admit their feelings._

 _Well. The answer is...you'll see. Something does happen in this chapter but...I won't give it away. But don't fret if it doesn't seem enough. The idea is that they **will** eventually get together, and honestly, I don't plan for this story to be long so perhaps it won't be that bad. There will be some angst to be had._

 _And I am sorry for the ending. Don't hate me, I had to!_

 _P.S.: Everytime I see the title of this fic I hear "The Pleasure Principle" in my head. Some randomness for you._

* * *

 **Disclaimer:** _Scandal and any related characters ain't mine. Any unrecognizable and/or cringe-worthy characters **are** mine._

* * *

 **Songs in this Chapter:** _"Start of a Romance (Album Version)" by Skyy, "Creep" by TLC, "Outstanding" by the Gap Band, "If You Stay" by the Backstreet Boys_

* * *

 **Three**

The day Olivia had to retrieve Fitz from the airport, she was plagued by tiny disasters.

First, she had overslept that morning and didn't have time to iron the outfit she had wanted to wear so she had to settle for an outfit from the back of her closet that smelled faintly of mothballs.

She also discovered too late that everyone's least favorite Auntie was due to ride into town and she promptly made her mark on the back of Olivia's pants.

Luckily, Isabelle Flannery-Kent, one of the other teachers at the Academy, had a spare skirt in her office and a box of Super Absorbent tampons, which solved both problems.

A traffic jam on the way home threatened to make her late getting to the airport. She cursed and hit the steering wheel in frustration. Just as she picked up her phone to leave Fitz a message to let him know she was going to be late, traffic began to flow again.

She burst through her front door in a flurry, undressing as she went. She set her alarm for three minutes and literally jumped into shower like she was doing Double Dutch. One hundred eighty seconds later she hopped out, shedding her shower cap, and barely had time to grab a towel.

She stood in her closet for a full two minutes in a panic. _What do I wear? Those pants make my ass look huge. And that shirt—why did I let Abby talk me into that glorified scrap of fabric with the fake stones and straps?_

"Olivia!" she cried aloud, exasperated at herself. "Get a grip. It's Fitz. It's _just_ Fitz." She sucked in a breath. "He's your friend. _Just_ a friend…"

She murmured the phrase like a mantra, tossing the overpriced top aside and finally settling for an outfit. After donning her clothes, she went to her vanity and ran the brush through her dark hair quickly. Her get-your-ass-out-the-door alarm sounded as she was standing in front of the mirror. She frowned at her reflection—and decided to at least wear lipstick.

She pressed her lips together and approved. "Just for good measure," she told her mirror image.

* * *

Fitz hated airports. He hated the crush of people, the long lines, the tedium. He had been flying for hours and was pretty sure he had a crick in his neck from his short nap on the plane.

He retrieved his luggage and pulled up the handle so he could roll it. He glanced toward the windows, noting with a sigh that it was close to sunset. He had lost the day in the air. _I'll make sure to get out tomorrow,_ he thought.

He was thinking of relaxing and having a beer out on someone's patio when he heard her voice from behind him.

"You could look a little happier, Fitz. Almost makes me wonder if you actually missed me."

He grinned and turned. She stood before him in a sleeveless multi-colored tunic and jean capris. Strappy sandals on her feet revealed toes colored in a magenta hue. Her make up was light enough to survive the summer heat but enough to accent her comely features. He felt grubby in comparison in his T-shirt and jeans and dimly wondered if she knew how beautiful she looked.

"Trust me," Fitz said. "I did miss you. A lot." He held out his hands. "Aren't you going to give me a hug or are you just going to keep staring at me like I've got something hanging out of my nose?"

She lifted a shoulder and rolled her eyes in mock-exasperation. "I suppose I'll indulge you this time."

She stepped forward into him and placed her hands upon his shoulders. His hands rested on her back and for several beats their bodies were pressed together. The contact felt different than their norm. He found himself taking notice of things he afforded little attention before: the scent of her soap, the softness of her hair, the warmth of her skin.

He tried to chalk it up to fatigue, but his body was broadcasting a different reaction. Before things got out of control, he stepped back to look at her. She stared up at him, her eyes filled with something he could not name. It was more than mere happiness. She seemed...nervous?

He had a million words in mind, but only one crossed his lips. "Hi."

"Hi," she returned. A boarding call came over the loudspeaker and she moved away from him, making the gap between them a little more platonic. He cleared his throat and turned to retrieve his suitcase. "Um...you look tired."

He managed a chuckle. The comment helped to dissipate the strangeness that had descended upon them during the hug. "Thanks for your brutal honesty. Didn't really sleep well on the plane."

She grinned. "Anytime, Grant." She hitched up the strap of her purse and gestured toward the exit. "Let's stop by the Starbucks on the way out, get you a coffee. Mia would be pissed if you fell asleep in your plate. Guest of honor or not."

* * *

"So how have things been?"

Olivia merged into regular traffic and gave an absent nod. She was still reeling a bit from their hug in the airport, but forced her brain away from that dangerous area. They hadn't seen each other in a while. _It had been just making up for lost time, that's all._ "Things are going great. Can't complain."

"Work?" Fitz pressed. "Are you still working on getting funding for the women's studies program at the Academy?"

The project in question had been a personal crusade of Olivia's for nearly three years, since she had started working at Kaminari Academy. The school, with its highly prestigious staff and high standard of excellence, would benefit from a more centralized and comprehensive study of women's lives, Olivia believed. Luckily, she wasn't the only instructor there who believed this. "Yes, several of the teachers from various departments have gotten on board. We're hoping to focus on women from all walks of life, but heavily on women of color. Their music, their writing, their art, their history." She glanced in a side mirror and put on her blinker. "Mia and a couple of the teachers are doing grant applications as well."

"If you need an attorney to help you through it all, you know who to call."

She moved into the right lane and got off on the exit that would lead to her apartment. "That is, if I can find you, Counselor. You made partner yet?"

"No," Fitz replied. When Olivia quirked a brow, he added, "Not yet at least."

"It's going to be this year or the beginning of the next. I can feel it. You have been working hard, putting yourself out there. Rumblings and gossip may be sketchy sometimes, but they've gotta start from somewhere." She looked at him a moment before turning back to the road. "I think you are ready for it. Past ready, in fact."

"I _am_ ready." He squeezed her hand and she looked at him with a bit of surprise. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

Sensing his gratitude, she smiled and squeezed back. "Anytime."

The light turned green, and Olivia turned left off of the exit ramp. Fitz sipped coffee, already starting to feel more awake when a question occurred to him. "So...Mia has a boyfriend?"

Olivia cackled at his incredulous tone. "Fitz, it's not so unbelievable. She is affectionate, intuitive and caring. And a bomb-ass cook. I'm just glad she found someone decent after the last guy."

"Remind me why you didn't let me kick his ass?"

Olivia used her key fob to gain entry into the parking garage of her building and drove through when the gate lifted. "Because you work for a prominent law firm and the negative press would have landed you out on _your_ ass."

Fitz waved a hand in dismissal. "Oh they love me. They would have made it go away." He swallowed the last of the coffee. "Not to mention, the asshole is in jail for his most recent DUI charge. I just happen to know the judge where he was arrested. Maximum sentence."

Olivia put the car in park and looked impressed. "Remind me never to piss you off."

"You could never piss me off, Livvie." He lightly tweaked her nose and got out of the car. She lingered for a moment, trying to rid herself of the tingle inspired by his touch before exiting as well.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Olivia and Fitz arrived at Mia's apartment. Fitz looked fresher and a bit more awake in a different pair of jeans and a collared blue shirt.

At Mia's door, Olivia knocked on the wood. A moment later, the door opened to reveal a tall, brown-eyed man with close-cropped hair and a neatly-shaved beard wearing dark jeans and a Green Lantern shirt behind it. He smiled at them but Olivia could tell that something seemed a bit off by the slight signs of strain around his eyes.

"Good evening, Ms. Pope," the man greeted Olivia.

"Good evening, Mr. Lawrence," Olivia returned. She turned to Fitz and said, "Fitz, this is Samuel Lawrence, Mia's boyfriend. Sam, this Fitzgerald Grant, the guest of honor."

Sam switched his gaze to Fitz, and the two shared a manly handshake. "So this is the guy I've heard so much about over the past two weeks. Come on in. We can share manly stories over a beer while the food's cooking." He waved them inside and stepped back to let them cross the threshold. When they were safely inside, Sam closed the door.

"Knowing Mia, there's no telling what you've heard. We sort of have a…love-hate relationship."

Mia's voice came from the kitchen. "Is that Creeper I hear?"

Sam gave a long-suffering sigh and raised his eyes to the sky. He muttered something like _she's actually going to do it_ under his breath. Olivia frowned at him in question and he shook his head at her while he stepped out of the path of the doorway.

"What?" Olivia asked.

Sam merely tilted his head in the direction of Mia's voice. He murmured, "Wait for it…wait for it—"

Olivia stepped toward the kitchen but Sam smoothly nudged her next to him. Olivia shared a look with Fitz, who raised his eyebrows, and shrugged.

Suddenly the opening bars of TLC's "Creep" came from the other side of the swinging doors. _Yes. It's me again. And I'm back._ When the beat dropped, Mia burst out of the kitchen and into the hall and immediately started dancing while mouthing the lyrics. She landed in the spot Olivia had attempted to occupy, and the saloon-style doors would have knocked her to the ground or worse with the speed Mia had barreled through them.

No wonder Sam had nudged her out of the way.

"Mia, seriously?" Olivia managed trying not to laugh.

Fitz looked to her and grinned as he danced with Mia in the tiny space. His moves were undeniably goofy with barely a hint of rhythm. "What's wrong, Liv? Afraid to dance?"

She slanted him a look. "I am not, Fitzgerald Grant, and you know it."

"Well prove it," Fitz challenged as Mia moved their impromptu dance session into the wider space of the living room. Olivia glanced at Sam and he gestured to go on. She dashed into the living room and planted herself on the opposite of Mia, putting Fitz in the middle of them.

The front door opened and they heard Harrison Wright's voice. They heard Sam attempt to explain what was going on but Harrison just chalked it up to his cousin _being random again, what else is new?_ He greeted them with _what's up, ladies, lemme show you how it's done!_ Fitz stepped back and watched the Harrison and Mia doing the Kid  & Play dance as Sam hovered beside him.

"At least she didn't break out with _Pretty Fly for a White Guy_ ," Sam quipped.

Fitz noted his tone of voice and asked, "Did she do that for you?"

Sam made a face. " _Pssh_ —of course not. I mean…" Fitz quirked an eyebrow and Sam amended his statement, looking sheepish. "Okay yes, yes she did. And it was…" Something must have flashed in Fitz's eyes because Sam straightened and cleared his throat. "Maybe I shouldn't talk about it."

"It would definitely be awkward if you did," Fitz remarked. "After all, Mia is like the little sister I never wished I'd had."

"Meaning if I talk about her with any whiff of sexual innuendo, it would make you want to swing at me?"

"Bingo," Fitz responded but gave him a grin to keep things amicable.

At that moment, Sam frowned and sniffed the air. He cursed under his breath and sprinted towards the kitchen. Harrison, Olivia, and Mia stopped dancing abruptly.

"What the hell is wrong with _him?_ " Harrison inquired.

"Nice to see you too, Harrison," Sam yelled from the kitchen. "Honey, how long have you had this alfredo on?"

Mia groaned in frustration and stalked away toward the kitchen. Meanwhile, Harrison strode up to Fitz and they exchanged a complicated handshake-high-five-shoulder clap combo that made Olivia slightly dizzy to watch.

"Mr. Grant, Mr. _Grant_ ," Harrison announced. "Long time no see in our neck of the woods. So what do you have planned? Please tell me it involves leaving a string of broken hearts in your wake."

Olivia rolled her eyes as a strange feeling came over her. She hovered within the cushy domain of Denial, therefore she didn't rightly identify this as envy. "You're not taking him bar-hopping, Harrison."

"Just because you don't like dating, cous, doesn't mean that Fitz has to live like a monk, okay?" Harrison argued. "Stop being such a cock-block, Liv."

Olivia recoiled and made a face like someone had passed rotten greens under her nose. "Harrison—Fitz doesn't have time for your single-guy debauchery. He is _perfectly_ fine in that department."

Harrison raised an eyebrow. "Oh really? Why don't we just ask him?"

In unison, the cousins looked to Fitz. Fitz fidgeted under their scrutiny and chuckled nervously.

Before either could coerce him to answer, the sound of squealing tires met their ears. Harrison, Olivia and Fitz went to the window and looked down. A silver BMW had pulled up to the curb and parked, and a slim young woman hopped out. The vanity plate on the car read **Moni Luv**. Olivia stifled a groan. _Monique._

"Who invited _her_ punk ass?" Harrison asked. Olivia said nothing and stalked into the kitchen.

* * *

"I thought you said Monique wasn't going to be here," Olivia said, crossing her arms over her chest.

"She wasn't," Mia protested as she poured Olivia a glass of red wine. She handed it off and went to the stove top to quickly make a new Alfredo sauce. "She was supposed to be having dinner with friends tonight on the other side of town." She heaved a huge sigh as the door opened and Monique loudly asked in quick succession _what's going on what is this what are y'all doing why y'all didn't **tell** me?!_ The _me_ ended in a dramatic mock-sob that had Mia banging her forehead against the cabinet.

"You're not staying, Monique," Sam was saying.

Monique scoffed. "Excuse me? Who lives here? Not you. Besides, Mia would _not_ kick me out."

 _Pause._

Mia cursed under her breath.

"Mia," Olivia began in a warning tone.

"I know, I know," Mia muttered as Sam and Monique quarreled in the hallway. She stomped to the doors, threw them open and said, "She can stay as long as she behaves herself. Got it?" She gave no one any time to refute as the doors swung closed and she returned to the stove.

"It's easier not to argue with her," Mia remarked, more for her own benefit than Olivia's.

"Look, we haven't seen Fitz in over a year. She had better not ruin this. I don't know when we'll see him again."

Something in Olivia's voice had Mia slowly turning her head toward her cousin with her brow furrowed. "Monique's been around Fitz before, Liv. Besides, he's a homie. It's not like it's your first date or something and we all gotta be on our bestest behavior…"

Olivia said nothing as Mia trailed off, instead taking a rather large gulp of wine. Mia's eyes narrowed. She tilted her head in suspicion. She parted her lips to speak when Sam entered the kitchen, bringing with him the sounds of Monique asking Fitz how much his annual salary was and Harrison telling Fitz not to respond.

"Oh honey?" Mia turned away from the stove at the sound of Sam's voice cheery with the satisfaction of being right. "So what color would you like your leash to be since it appears your little sister is leading your ass?"

Mia's eyes went huge, then narrowed dangerously. Beside her Olivia heaved a huge sigh. As Sam sauntered away, Mia started after him and picked up the cast iron skillet with her eyes glassy with the intent to maim. Olivia shook her head frantically and grabbed the skillet out of her hand before they ended up on the ten o'clock news.

"Woosaa, Mia Corrine," Olivia intoned, rubbing Mia's temples. " _Woosaa_. Mama Carmen would not appreciate gray matter on her heirloom skillet passed down by generations and generations of Lewis matriarchs. The bloodstains will never come out of the carpet and whoever buys this place after you will judge you _so_ hard. And you look absolutely horrible in bright orange."

 _Pause._

"That did it," Mia announced, completely calm.

"Truly?"

"Yep."

Olivia slanted her a look as they walked out of the kitchen. "I'm still sitting in between you two."

* * *

Olivia noticed as the guests were settling into their places at the table, Sam approached Mia but she regarded him coolly. Chin lifted, she strode to her seat without a word, leaving her boyfriend to roll his eyes to the ceiling and assume his place at the opposite end of the table.

Fitz leaned in when Olivia sat down to his left and asked in a low tone, "Are they okay?"

Olivia chuckled sardonically. "As long as they're not at each other's throats, trust me, that's a triumph."

"If you ask me, if they're going to act out World War III, maybe they need to call it done before the resentment sets in."

"Excuse me? What're _you_ whispering about?" Monique demanded, laying a penetrating state upon the two friends.

In the seat next to her, Harrison remarked, "You always gotta be in someone's business, Moni. It ain't even yours. Why don't you stay in your own damn seat?"

Monique scoffed. "Ugh, Harrison—didn't you get the memo? Everybody's business _**is** _ my business!"

"And how many payments are you behind on the Moni-Luv-Mobile again?" Mia muttered archly into her wineglass.

Monique glared at her and stabbed the chicken with her fork. "I'm not talking to you for the rest of the night."

"Hope springs eternal," Sam quipped. He earned a narrowed-eyed look from Monique for that, which he ignored. To Fitz, he asked, "So how are things at the job? I hear you work for a law firm."

"Yes, Thomas, Beene, and Wolfe," Fitz responded. "And work is extremely busy but also extremely rewarding. We just settled a case that's been in in litigation for nearly five years. It's sort of foreign when cases like that end when they've been a part of your life for so long."

"Thomas, Beene, and Wolfe," Sam recited thoughtfully. He snapped his fingers in recognition. "Wait. I think I know who they are. Thomas, that's the female attorney, right? And then she brought in Beene and Wolfe?"

"Well, she partnered initially with Beene—or Cyrus as I know him. Before they joined forces, David Wolfe actually had his own, larger firm. The story goes, Irene had sued her ex-husband Robert Bullock and a gentleman by the name of Jonathan Baxley in a massive extortion case about twenty years ago. Wolfe caught wind of the case and was intrigued. I mean, it was in the news everywhere, though some of us may be too young to remember it." Fitz paused and chuckled here. The table watched him, awaiting what happened next. "Depending on whom you ask, Wolfe either elbowed his way onto the legal team…or he gallantly offered his services and talents. I tend to think the truth is somewhere near the middle. Anyhow, Wolfe worked with Irene and Cyrus on the case and they completely demolished the opposing counsel. Wolfe loved working with them so much that he offered to bring them on as partners."

"And let me guess: they totally went for it," Olivia guessed.

"Not at first. Cyrus was agreeable…Irene had not been."

"I wouldn't be either," Mia admitted. "She already had her own firm. What assurance did she have that Wolfe would afford her the same authority coming into his?"

Fitz raised his glass to Mia. "Exactly. Let's just say…Irene had needed some pretty serious convincing."

"So what'd he do?" Harrison asked. "Did he hit her with a legal whammy and she changed her mind?"

Fitz shook his head and took a sip of wine. "Hmm…nope. Well sort of, I guess if you think about it."

"What'd he do?" Olivia wanted to know.

"Well…" His eyes drifted over all of them before resting upon Olivia. She felt the weight of his stare on her forehead before lifting her eyes to meet his gaze. "He did the only thing he could. He…asked her to marry him."

Mia gasped and Monique let out an astonished _whaaaaat?_ Harrison had to praise the mastery and said as much to Sam, who agreed and made a joke about a pre-nup that made Mia roll her eyes. During this, Olivia and Fitz just stared at each other. Something hummed between them, very similar to the feeling she experienced when they were at the airport. She sensed the change without being able to verbalize it. Her mind dashed in the most inappropriate direction before she pulled herself back sharply.

 _No ma'am! Bad Olivia!_ she chastised herself silently. _Just a friend, remember? Just a friend…just a friend…_

After a couple of seconds, Olivia's cheeks flushed and she turned back to her plate. Fitz dropped his eyes and looked in the opposite direction.

"So they're still together, Fitz?" Mia asked, breaking through their moment.

"Oh yes. Eighteen years, a set of seventeen-year-old triplets and an eight-year-old later, they're still together. Her children from her first marriage love him. All six of them."

Mia choked on her pasta. "Are you telling me that she had _ten_ children?" She winced and clutched her abdomen, horrified. " _Dayum._ I can't even imagine…"

"Christmas must be a blast," Harrison pointed out. "With that many children, that's gotta be hectic."

"It can't be any worse than our family getting together," Olivia disagreed. "Granny Jeanette had four children. Your mom had you and Henry. Aunt Carmen had Michelle, Mia, Monique and Marcus. My mother had me. Uncle Robert had Vivian, Jason, Alec and little Phillip. You add in Michelle's husband along with Vivian and Jason's spouses and children—and the great-grandparents and uncles and Aunt Charlie—that's damn near fifty people."

Mia heaved a huge breath and buried her face in her hands. "Liv, don't remind me! Man Mama Carmen drafted me for the cooking line for the holidays this year."

"For real?" Olivia asked, astonished.

"Gotta do it, it's the rite of passage," Harrison declared and popped a piece of dinner roll into his mouth.

"Just make sure it's cooked all the way," Monique said pointedly.

Mia sent her little sister a glare for that remark.

"Do I even want to know?" Sam queried, looking at the disgruntled looks around him.

Mia remained in sullen silence so Olivia answered, "One year when we were in college, Mia attempted to take point on cooking the turkey at Thanksgiving and…" Mia rubbed her temples. "Well, let's just say several of us lost about ten pounds as a result of the food poisoning."

As Sam covered his mouth to smother his chuckle, Fitz added, "To be fair, she had the timing right, but the oven had been set too low."

"I still maintain someone turned the temp down after I put it in," Mia protested.

"Was it the same person who swiped the Lindbergh baby?" Sam teased her. She glowered at him over her wineglass.

"Don't sweat it, Mi, you've improved since then," Harrison assured her. "This chicken is the _shit,_ by the way." He gave Sam a look. "You better snap her up before someone else does."

"Excuse me? Talking about me like I'm the last roll on the platter. What if I don't _want_ to be snapped up—as you put it—Mr. Wright?"

"You lying, and you know it. Every girl wants to be snapped up. It's in your DNA."

Olivia broke in. "Wait just a minute, Harrison. You know it's dangerous to make generalizations. Just because I possess a vagina doesn't mean that I am sizing up every guy I come across as husband material."

"When it's right, it's right," Fitz suddenly said. _"Que sera, sera."_

She nodded at him. "Exactly. Life is about more than pairing off and procreating."

"Pairing off is not so bad," Harrison said. "Y'all can keep that procreating shit, I don't want any of that."

"'Cause Lord knows we don't need another Harrison in the world," Mia muttered.

And then Monique leaned forward, the tips of her braids almost reaching her plate, and grinned speculatively at Fitz. Mia was immediately suspicious. Sam rolled his eyes and rose to get more liquor. He had a feeling they would need it. Olivia stared hard at her little cousin, hoping that she would receive her silent warnings in her thick skull. Besides, knocking her in the head would be rude at the dinner table.

"So when are _you_ going to get married, Fitz?"

* * *

The drive to Olivia's apartment ensued in awkward silence.

Fitz watched Olivia's profile illuminated by street lights as they passed them. He could tell by the set of her jaw that she was tense. Her finger tapped the steering wheel with her index finger, the rhythm swift and fierce, taking his attention away from the music drifting out of the stereo.

"It's okay, Liv," Fitz said to the side of her face.

Olivia sharply stopped at a red light and Fitz braced himself by extending his arm out to the dash. "No it isn't. Monique loves to meddle in business that isn't hers, and it's a deplorable habit she needs to get rid of. What she asked you was in bad taste. You don't ask people things like that, it's rude."

"It's not a far-fetched question, Liv. I'm in my middle, almost late, thirties, I have a thriving career, and…I like to think I am a reasonably attractive guy."

Olivia pressed the gas, and the car went forward smoothly. She said nothing for a while, and Fitz sighed.

Then out of the blue, she commented in a moment of rare frankness, "You're fucking gorgeous actually."

His head whipped around to stare at her sharply. She could sense him staring at her but she kept her gaze firmly on the road in front of her. His lips curved until they were stretched into a full out grin.

"So you think I'm—how did you put it?—fucking gorgeous?"

Olivia lifted a shoulder in a nonchalant shrug. "Look, we are close enough that I can be completely honest with one another. I happen to think you are attractive. I happen to also think Sam is too, Mia didn't do too shabbily with him—though they need to get their bickering under control. But that hardly means that I want anything from you. It just means that I have eyes and have noted your physical attributes."

"So I'm just pretty to look at?"

She spared him an annoyed glance. "Stop fishing, Fitzgerald. You know exactly what you are."

"Forgive me for liking my ego stroked every once in a while."

Olivia choked out a chuckle. "I'm not here to stroke your ego, Grant. You have young, nubile women for that." She pulled into the garage of her apartment building and put her key fob up to the reader to be let in. The gate lifted and she drove under it. She took a left then swung into her designated space. Without hesitating, she opened her door and exited the car.

She heard Fitz open his door and slam it shut after he got out of the car. "Who said I have retained any of these young, nubile women? Not to mention, you're acting like you're one of the _Golden Girls_. You're not old, Liv."

She pressed the button for the elevator to retrieve them. The doors slid open and they stepped inside. "I am in my thirties with no prospects to be had. I am rapidly approaching spinsterhood. They're going to start getting me kittens and ugly sweaters for Christmas."

As the gears whirled, pulling them upward, Olivia stood in place. Fitz leaned on the back wall, hands in his pockets.

"Perhaps you're not looking in the right place," he pointed out, tone soft.

Those words seemed innocuous on the surface, but behind those words was meaning. A meaning hiding beyond a boundary that she felt wary to cross.

The elevator chimed and the doors slid open. Without hesitation, Olivia stepped out of the enclosed space, hoping that they were leaving that perilous subject behind. Fitz followed, wordlessly. She unlocked her door and let them both inside. She turned on the light and her stylish apartment came into view.

Restless, she headed for her kitchen. "I've got some wine. You want some? I think I'm going to have some."

Fitz walked into the living room and looked out the window at the street below. "Um, sure."

A few minutes later, Olivia reappeared with two glasses of wine. She stepped beside him and waited for him to take the stem. He grasped it and she put the coffee table between them. She spotted his frown but turned away immediately to sit down on the couch.

"Would it be so far-fetched?"

She sipped wine and found the crimson liquid swirling in the glass to be infinitely interesting. "What do you mean?"

"Don't play stupid, Olivia. You're far too smart for that." She imbibed to occupy her mouth from having to form a reply. He set his glass aside as he lowered himself to the space next to her. He took hers and placed it next to his. "You know what I mean."

Something changed in the instant their eyes met. The alchemy of their dynamic was transformed and both began to notice the effect the other had on them. Both ached to be closer to one another, to breach that invisible line drawn to keep them from moving into a different realm. A realm that could possibly compromise what they had built over the past fifteen years.

Drawn to each other as if pulled by an imaginary line, Olivia and Fitz leaned in closer and closer until their lips brushed—

Until the alert tone on Olivia's phone sounded and they jumped apart.

"Shit," Olivia muttered and went to her phone. The spell had been broken, and she found some of her awareness retuning as she turned her back on him. She still sensed him sitting on the couch but she forced herself to go through the motions of unlocking her phone to check what had prompted the alert.

It had been a message from Mia. _Hey Liv I forgot to ask. What's Fitz's email address?_

She hurriedly typed in a response as Fitz rose from the couch: _It's fgrantiii {at} thomasbeenewolfe {dot} com_. She'd barely had time to press _Send_ before he plucked it out of her hand and tossed it aside. She threw up her hands in frustration but did not look at him. She couldn't bear to look at him with all of the emotions swirling within her. Fear. Mortification. Shock. Anticipation. Desire.

"Look at me, Olivia," he ordered softly. She pressed her lips together but did not comply. He grabbed her firmly by the back of her head and tilted her head upward. She had no opportunity to breathe before he captured her mouth hungrily with his.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Notes:** _So..._

 _Apologies for not posting last week. My sister and I are looking at new places to live and that occupied me last weekend. I am hoping to post two chapters if my Muse behaves._

 _When we last left our lovely duo, Fitz had pole-vaulted over That Line and kissed Olivia. Just going for the gold. Whoo-wee! When I planned out that chapter, it originally was supposed to end a little less suddenly so when this chapter starts, it all makes sense. Well, I wrote it and it came out all different. I couldn't decide how I wanted to handle things, but I think I've figured it out now. I am sorry if there's any confusion in advance. I am hoping I framed things in a way that makes it clear what happened._

 _There are a few seeds that I unintentionally planted in this chapter and I am deliberating on whether or not to let them blossom._

 _As to the question of smut/citrus/lemon...sorry folks. I have no finesse when it comes to sex scenes, I am way too subtle. I leave that to the experts, and there are some amazing writers of Olitz love scenes out there. But I am not a part of that esteemed club. :)_

* * *

 **Disclaimer:** _Scandal and any related characters ain't mine. Any unrecognizable and/or cringe-worthy characters **are** mine._

* * *

 **Songs in this chapter:** _"For the Love of Money" by the O'Jays, "Set it Off" by Strafe, "Those Were the Days" by Aaliyah, "Never Say Goodbye" by the Jackson 5_

* * *

 **Four**

 _Several months later. New Year's Eve, 2014._

The halls of the law firm of Thomas, Beene, and Wolfe buzzed with anticipation that morning of the last day of the year. He could sense the vibration of too many curious brains squeezed into one place as he came off the elevator onto the thirtieth floor of the Johnson Continental Building.

He waved at the receptionist when he passed the front desk. She gave him an answering smile characteristic of a starstruck teen and he chuckled to himself. As Angelica Wolfe was a starstruck teen, he supposed she had the right to be a little dazzled by him. He strode toward his office, greeting co-workers as he passed. He could spy a speculating gleam in their eyes as they returned his greeting, but he shrugged it away and continued to his office.

As he rounded the corner and entered the suite of offices that was his home, a curly-haired brunette fell into step with him. Quinn Perkins held out a hand for his coat and he handed it over without argument. When they had first met each other's acquaintance, when she had been hired as a legal assistant nearly two years before, Quinn had been desperate to make a good impression on him. She had offered to hang his coat or get his coffee; some of the attorneys were comfortable in ordering the assistants around like servants, but Fitz was not one of them.

Two years later, Quinn Perkins had become invaluable to him, and thus appointed his paralegal. Their day began with ritual of him passing his coat to her in the winter months or her bringing a iced coffee or water in the summer months. This allowed them a chance to assess what the day held, head off disasters and handle their tasks in a productive manner. He owed a great deal of his success the past several months to Quinn and her efficiency.

"Good morning, Quinn," Fitz greeted her.

"Good morning, Fitz," Quinn returned. "We got a settlement offer on the Stewart case. I put the paperwork in your inbox to review."

"How does it look?"

Quinn chuckled. "Let's just say when I first laid eyes on it, I thought Brennan was smoking an illegal substance when he wrote it." Fitz let out a long-suffering sigh and shook his head in disbelief. "I've put a meeting on the calendar for later this week so we can hash it out in person."

Fitz grinned at her as they reached his office. "Ms. Perkins, that's rather ruthless of you." He crossed the threshold with her behind, and she went to his small closet to hang his coat. "You know Brennan is going to crumble face-to-face and offer me more than they are willing to give."

"I learned from the best." She held out a hand to stop him before he lowered himself into his chair behind his desk. He frowned at her slightly and straightened. "Before you sit down, I need to tell you that Cyrus wanted to see you in Conference Room 2 as soon as you got here."

Fitz nodded thoughtfully, wondering what this meant. When Fitz started at the firm, Cyrus had taken him under his hypothetical wing. Of the three partners, Fitz had the closest relationship with him. So either Cyrus had something urgent he needed to discuss with him, or...

Fitz hazarded a look at Quinn, who appeared distinctly like an excited child in front of a dessert cart. "Now Quinn—"

"I don't want to jinx it, but the rumblings have been very loud the past few weeks. You can't tell me that the attorneys aren't talking about it because I overheard Chloe Estes bitching and she's pretty sure she's going to be passed over. Not that her being a non-factor is a surprise to anyone, really, but something is about to happen and everyone knows it."

Fitz rolled his eyes. Chloe Estes was a marginally decent attorney and had been working for the firm for nearly a decade, but the rumors persisted that she had only been brought in because her mother had guilt-tripped Irene. Fitz had always wondered what could have swayed the indomitable Irene Thomas but decided not to ask.

"No one knows what is going on," Fitz reminded her. "Anything you have heard at this point is merely speculation. The partners haven't confirmed or denied anything. For all we know, they could be redecorating."

"Mark my words, Fitz," Quinn remarked as he rounded the desk and walked toward the door. "This is more than us getting new chairs in the lobby."

"You wanna put a wager on it?"

Quinn's hazel eyes twinkled with the appeal of challenge. "You're on. $100 says you're wrong."

Fitz strode out of the office, grinning. "Prepare to be $100 poorer by the end of the day, Perkins."

"We'll see!"

Smile on his face, Fitz left the area and headed for the conference rooms. He stopped outside of Conference Room 2 noting that the door was closed. The blinds were opened a fraction, and he could see people moving around inside but could not identify who was inside the room.

"Grant."

The female voice made him turn. He discovered a tall, dark-skinned woman wearing a slim-cut black dress that stopped just above the knee under a black and royal blue jacket. Her three-inch heels were the same vibrant hue.

"Smith," he returned.

Rachel Smith paused beside him and looked him up and down. One of the senior associates, Rachel was a year younger than he was, but her brilliance and determination had put them on an even keel. Her dark eyes were filled with a bit of surprise when they met his. "You have a meeting too?"

Fitz began to feel the first tendrils of confusion clouding his brain. "Cyrus sent me the summons. You?"

"Irene sent me mine." In unison, they looked to the closed conference room door, wondering what was being deliberated behind the wood. Narrowing her eyes in suspicion, Rachel turned back to him. "Do you think—?"

"Honestly, I don't know what to think," Fitz admitted.

Rachel pondered on this a long moment before giving a tiny nod and holding out a hand. "Well, if the rumors are true, let the best attorney win."

"Let the best attorney win," Fitz echoed, shaking her hand. The door opening had them both standing at attention. Seventeen-year-old Angela Wolfe, clad in a dark blue pantsuit that made her look older than her years, appeared in the doorway. "Mr. Grant, Ms. Smith—they'll see you now."

Fitz made a gesture for Rachel to go ahead of him. "Ladies first."

The right side of her mouth curved upward and she strode past him. They both thanked Angela as they passed her and entered the room.

With the city's skyline at her back, Irene Thomas-Wolfe sat in a chair facing the glass wall opposite the table, clad in a pewter skirt suit paired with a dark red blouse. Pouring a glass of water to her right, Cyrus Rutherford Beene appeared serene and calm, which was slightly out of the ordinary for him. To Irene's left sat David Wolfe, her husband and partner. The firm had seen little of Wolfe the past several months, and the three partners had been very secretive about what the reasoning was.

"Take a seat, please," Irene instructed, voice polite but devoid of any other inflection. Rachel and Fitz took the two seats on the opposite side, managing not to glance at once another. They schooled their features to blankness, willed their hands to be calm. Angela closed the blinds completely to give them privacy and then moved to stand unobtrusively by the door with her hands folded in front of her.

Irene waited a minute before speaking again. "Fitzgerald, Rachel, I am sure that you both have noticed some things beginning to shift within the firm." They both nodded faintly, not speaking. "We are quickly reaching the perilous juncture of a grand reveal in regards to something very momentous, and—"

"Perhaps, I need to jump in..." Irene slanted her husband an arch look and he trailed off. Cyrus broke his blank face for a nanosecond to look amused. Wolfe cleared his throat. "If I may, Counselor?"

Irene merely quirked her eyebrows. Based on the slightness of her reaction, everyone in the room knew Wolfe would be sleeping on the couch that night.

Shifting in his chair, Wolfe leaned forward. "To be blunt, I am running for Mayor. It is something that I have been wanting to do for many years, and waiting to do because I was concerned about leaving this firm behind, but after many serious discussions, I have decided I will enter the race. Because that will take my full attention, we have decided that it is time we offered the opportunity for partnership to associates within the firm."

"In other words, kids"—Cyrus paused for dramatic effect—"we are offering you both a full partnership within the firm and even more—"

"You get your name on the door," Irene added, finally smiling. "We hope that you both will accept."

Wolfe raised a hand before Fitz or Rachel could speak. "I need to say something here, something I need for both of you to understand. When Irene, Cyrus and I were deliberating about whom to elevate within the firm, no matter how many times we cut the deck, so to speak, your names entered the conversation. The two of you represent a new age for this firm. My lovely wife, as strong-willed as she is, Cyrus, who wouldn't know tranquil if it slapped him in the face, and I, the dinosaur fossil I am, will not be here forever."

He looked to Rachel. "Rachel, as you are a woman of color, I am extremely proud of what this represents, and allow me to be frank, we are all kicking ourselves for not doing this years ago. Know that the future intent of this firm is unequivocally to be inclusive, and I hope that you will help us accomplish that."

He then turned to Fitz. "Fitzgerald. You have one of the most elastic minds under this roof, and needless to say, watching you flourish from law student to attorney has truly been a pleasure, sir. I have no doubt whatsoever that you have the grace and aplomb to lead hand in hand with Rachel when the three of us are no longer here."

When silence descended, Fitz finally hazarded a glance at Rachel. She nodded faintly, her face schooled to thoughtful lines. As if she felt Fitz looking at her, she lifted her eyes and met his gaze. Possibilities blossomed in his brain, and he spied the synapses firing in hers.

They turned to the partners. "We accept," they said in unison.

Irene gestured to her daughter and Angela came forward with a file.

Several minutes later, when all of the paperwork was signed and discussed, Irene, Cyrus and Wolfe led them out to the lobby where Angelica had excitedly gathered the other members of the firm. Fitz noticed on the glass that there was a large piece of paper covering where the normal logo for the firm would have been. Irene stood beside it as her husband and Cyrus addressed them.

The news of the new partners and Wolfe running for Mayor was accepted with a great deal of excitement, though Fitz could sense Chloe Estes staring at him like a jilted vixen on _Melrose Place_. As if sensing that thought, Rachel glanced behind her, peering straight at the redhead for a beat. The nagging feeling eased. Rachel quirked an eyebrow at him. _I got your back, partner._

He smiled a bit. _Good to know._

When Irene peeled away the paper to reveal the new firm's new logo, Fitz felt an immeasurable amount of pride and accomplishment. _Thomas, Beene, Wolfe, Grant & Smith._

Applause broke out in the lobby, and everyone went to congratulate the two new partners. He suddenly had the stray thought, amid the well wishes and celebratory comments, _I can't wait to tell the news to—_

* * *

"Olivia! Olivia, wait!"

The female voice echoing in the grand foyer made Olivia Pope pause over the huge lion, the Kaminari Academy mascot, and turn. A petite, curly-haired woman in a raspberry-hued peacoat and eggshell-colored scarf rushed toward her, purse slung over her shoulder. Olivia took in her flushed cheeks and shining green eyes and frowned, wondering what was going on.

It was New Year's Eve, and instead of enjoying her time away for Winter Break, Olivia had been summoned to the Academy for a meeting. She had been contacted earlier that morning via email by Lila Marcelino, the assistant to the founder of the school Mikage Tsukimori. Lila's missive had been clear about a single thing: Olivia needed to get to the school as soon as possible. She threw on her new double-breasted white coat over a sweater and jeans before hurriedly leaving her apartment.

"Isabelle?" Olivia's brow furrowed as she fell into step with her. "What are you doing here?"

"I got an email from Lila telling me to get down here like my life depended on it. I had to leave Sophie and Mark in the middle of a _Harry Potter_ marathon and a whole pan of chocolate and caramel Rice Krispie treats."

Olivia nearly halted in mid-stride in dismay. Isabelle's chocolate and caramel Rice Krispie treats were _legendary_. Grudges were still in effect after one of the primary school teachers took the last one at 2013's faculty Christmas party. "You made a batch of the cocaine treats and didn't bring me any? I thought we were friends, Isabelle."

Isabelle chuckled. "If it's any consolation, Olivia, at this rate I won't get any either."

"Did someone say cocaine treats? Where are they? Can I have some?"

Olivia and Isabelle stopped in the middle of the hallway and turned toward the familiar voice. Mia Johnson hurried toward them in a teal military style coat and brown boots. She looked distinctly...displeased.

"What happened to you?" Olivia asked her cousin.

Mia groaned and when she caught up to them they began walking again with the cousins on either side of Isabelle. "Girl. That damn email. It came the worst time. Like the universe was conspiring against me."

"What were you doing?" Isabelle inquired.

Embarrassment crossed her features and she scratched the back of her neck. "Well, see what happened was…it wasn't so much what _I_ was doing exactly but more...you know..."

Olivia and Isabelle realized it at the same instant. "Oh," they said in unison. Mia's cheeks flushed and no further elaboration was needed.

She had already decided to change the subject before she lost all face. "So…what do you think they called us here for?" Mia asked.

"I really hope they're not trying to cut costs again," Isabelle groaned. She had been with the Academy for nearly fifteen years and had seen a great deal of things.

"I haven't heard anything like that," Mia assured her. "I've got a friend in finance. Enrollment is up this year. In fact, I feel like they should be giving us raises."

"You also believe in unicorns, Mi," Olivia reminded her, smiling.

She gave a decisive nod. "Damn straight." The mirth fled her face when Lila Marcelino walked into the hallway a few doors away and gestured to them to come forward. "Well, here we go, ladies."

"Think happy thoughts," Isabelle instructed them in a calm reassuring voice. "Think lots of happy thoughts."

"You're such a Mama, Iz," Mia commented affectionately.

"If they fire us, happy thoughts are not going to pay my rent," Olivia said.

No one had a chance to comment because Marisol Sebastian, Isabelle's best friend and history teacher, came down the hall complaining in Spanish. The diminutive brunette came up on Olivia's side and tore her winter hat from her head.

 _"Dios Mio,"_ Marisol muttered sourly. "You'd think they'd just wait until next week when we have to be back here anyways."

"But what would be the fun in that, Mari?" Isabelle joked, and they walked into the room Lila had disappeared into.

The secondary teachers' lounge was filled with people. Olivia noted that most of them were women, but there were a few males. She recognized teachers from all specialities, but it seemed a fraction of the actual staff. As a couple of them waved to her, she realized what had been so distinctive about this group: they were all on the committee pushing to create a women's studies program at the school.

At the head of the room, Lila Marcelino brandished a clipboard and fielded questions from perplexed teachers and administrative staff. She assured them briskly that all questions would be answered soon. Meanwhile, Mia stopped at the table which was laden with breakfast treats and juices and narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

"Hey Liv," she began, "these look like Abby's." She swiped up a bear claw and took a huge bite. "Tastes like 'em too!" she exclaimed, mouth full. She frowned again and swallowed. "Why are they busting out with the good shit? I see them. They're trying to ease the boot they're about to put in our ass with sugar!"

Lila looked over with a brow raised. Olivia grabbed some milk for them both and ushered Mia away before she could get them in trouble. "Girl if you don't _calm down_ and stop trying to ruin your diet _—_ " Mia lowered herself into a chair with a petulant pout and chewed with a mistrustful look in her eyes. Olivia sat beside her and took out her phone to text Abby. "Let me see if she knows anything."

"You know if she did, we'd both have about ten messages apiece by now."

Olivia did not respond to that. She went to her messenger app and tapped out a quick missive to Abby. It was New Year's Eve and the bakery at the Halliwell Hotel she managed was probably doing swift business, but if Abby had any viable information she would respond promptly. _Did you have a huge order for Kaminari going out today?_

Mia gulped milk. "What'd she say?"

Olivia's phone dinged and she read the message aloud. _Um no was I supposed to? Had several offices ordering sweets but not ur school. Oh & there was one 4 some co called Death Bell Inc, a pretty huge one. Don't know, Liv. See ya tonight!_

 _"Death Bell Inc?"_ Mia repeated. "Damn that sounds ominous."

She leaned over as Olivia brought her phone to her mouth and spoke in a soft tone. "Siri, what is Death Bell Incorporated?"

 _Searching,_ said the modulated voice. After a beat, the voice informed them, _Here is what I found. Death Bell Incorporated is subsidiary of Arashi Corp and is owned by Kaneshi Tsukimori. Would you like to know the current net worth?_

"Excuse me?" Mia blurted in shock, causing some heads to turn in her direction.

 _Would you like the information again?_ said the modulated voice.

Olivia turned off her phone and placed it in her purse before Mia could throw it across the room in annoyance. She was an ardent Android user _—_ due in part to Sam's influence. "Well, that answers that question," Olivia said. "But then raises another. If that" _—_ she gestured toward the table _—_ "is the order Abby was referring to, then what does Mr. Tsukimori's son have to do with this?"

As if on cue, Kaneshi Tsukimori walked in, flanked by his father, stepmother Suzume Arashi, and a smartly dressed middle-aged woman Olivia had never seen before.

Kaneshi Tsukimori was the estranged oldest child and only son of the school's founder. His relationship with Mikage had deteriorated when his younger sister Sakura had died of leukemia several years before. During her tenure at Kaminari Academy, Olivia had never seen Kaneshi near his father in person, only in old photos before Sakura's end. Polished as usual in a plum-hued sweater and dark slacks, he stopped behind his suit-clad father with a neutral expression and clasped his hands behind his back.

"Mmm… _hel **lo**_..." Mia said under her breath.

"Mi, seriously," Olivia scolded her in a hushed tone. "You have a boyfriend."

Mia lifted a shoulder. "Doesn't mean I can't look every now and again." She trailed Kaneshi's movement with her eyes and tapped her chin thoughtfully. "But you know he never comes out unless something is about to go all the way down. So either something really fucked up is about to occur…or this is going to be like winning the Publishers Clearing House sweepstakes."

"Did anyone ever win those?"

Mia made a face. "Probably not. Bad comparison I guess."

Mikage cleared his throat gently and all conversations stopped. He waited a few moments to ensure he had everyone's attention. _"Ohayou gozaimasu,"_ he greeted the room.

 _"Ohayou gozaimasu,"_ the room echoed in return.

"I would like to thank you all for coming on such short notice. We will keep this fairly short so you can return to your families and enjoy the remainder of your winter break." He nodded to his wife who nodded at him and stepped forward.

Suzume Arashi was a permanent fixture at the school and one Olivia had relied upon throughout the long arduous process. Less mysterious than her husband and stepson, Suzume involved herself with the day-to-day functioning of the school, ensuring the best environment for her students and staff. When Olivia had approached her on that emotional day three years ago when her crusade had begun to include more women-centered courses and materials, Suzume had listened patiently, much in the way a mother world, then offered Olivia her own perspective. _Getting to that place will not be easy,_ she had told Olivia. They started with a women's studies course for secondary students, then some activities during March, Women's History Month, in which both primary and secondary students could engage.

A good start, but Olivia wanted more. One of the cornerstones of Kaminari Academy was the comprehensive view of the world it offered its students. And as she had talked to her fellow teachers, she found she was not the only one who felt the lack of women in certain subjects.

Olivia's heart beat faster as Suzume's gaze swept the room. For a moment she stopped on Olivia, and Olivia found herself holding her breath.

"There has been a change coming on for quite some time," Suzume began. "As you all well know, Kaminari Academy prides itself on offering its students the best education the world has to offer. However, it has come to my attention that there are something lacking within the focus of this school. To be frank, our world is changing, but it still has more room in which to grow. Women often didn't warrant a footnote in history textbooks, had to assume male pseudonyms in order to have their works published or dress as men to participate in fields they were left out of. This lack is appalling. We hold a responsibility to our children to offer them the full perspective, of both male and female experiences.

"Sadly, undertaking such a feat is not simple, nor is it inexpensive. Most of this uphill battle has not been the resistance of the students but the lack of funding for such a project." She turned her head slowly toward her stepson. Olivia and Mia shared a dumbfounded glance when Kaneshi smiled sheepishly. "Last week, I had a conversation with my stepson that culminated into this meeting today. And within that exchange, he offered me a solution to our grand problem."

She took a breath, not able to suppress the excitement on her face. "So I am excited to announce, beginning in the 2015-2016 school year, we will not only be including a women's studies curriculum for the primary students, but we will be also expanding the women's studies course for secondary students into a multi-discipline program. We will appoint members to our brand new women's studies department by the end of the current school year to assess and determine coursework and proper materials."

The room erupted into gasps of happiness and shocked laughter. Mikage observed the people in his midst with a faint amusement, much as a father would watch a pack of exuberant daughters and sons. Suzume declared, _Let's celebrate!_ and the room broke out into excited movement.

"We did it," Olivia said aloud in awe. "We actually did it..."

"We did!" Mia confirmed. She began to jump up and down in her knee-high boots. "We totally did." She grabbed Olivia for a tight hug. "Maybe we didn't leap a tall building in a single bound, but we're about to change the way our students see the world." She pulled back, teary-eyed. Seeing the moisture in her cousin's eyes made Olivia slightly weepy herself. "Liv, I couldn't be more proud of you right now. You..."

"I didn't do this alone," Olivia reminded her firmly. "Don't forget. Look around you. Everyone had a hand in this, not just me."

"But if you hadn't lost your shit that one day and went storming into Suzume's office _—_ "

"Hey I did not _lose my shit_ , Mia! I was a _little_ upset. You make it sound like it was a temper tantrum."

Mia rolled her eyes and laughed. Marisol and Isabelle strode up to them, celebratory orange juice in their grasp. They clicked cups and toasted the moment. Olivia tossed back the golden liquid and went for her phone. She was already composing the group message in her head. She opened up her messenger app again and went through her contacts to choose who received the message.

She chose all of her family contacts, and was going through her friends when a name _—_ a single name _—_ gave her pause.

 _Fitzgerald Grant III._

Realization hit her like a lightning bolt, stopping her cold.

* * *

Someone had opened a bottle of champagne, and even though it was barely nine-thirty, small plastic cups were passed around. The festive mood grew and laughter spread. Rachel had hooked arms with him and carried on a conversation with Evan Brooks and Natasha Howard with little participation from Fitz.

As the tiny bubbles exploded on his tongue, Fitz found that the liquid tasted sour, tainted. He swallowed with a great effort and mustered up a smile when Cyrus came onto the scene and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. He had discarded the veneer of calm he had worn at the meeting and seemed his normal, jocular self.

This moment, as significant as it was, seemed surreal, like it were happening to someone else. He felt like a spectator, detached and adrift. Like a King, staring over his dominion but feeling that something—some _one_ —was missing.

He hated to admit it, but someone _was_ missing.

It had been months since he had thought of her. He had just surmounted that habit of trying to psych himself up to dial her number or type in her email address, eventually kicking himself and talking himself out of it, and now she invaded his senses, usurping his triumph and turning his insides into twisty, queasy mass.

And even worse, he mused as Irene hugged him, she probably never thought of him.

* * *

Olivia felt her cousin's cheek on hers for a fleeting moment before she pulled away to twirl Isabelle in a jubilant circle. She suddenly felt like she were suddenly in a vacuum. The sounds were tinny and far-away as his voice inside of her head came, unbidden.

 _You're a coward._

 _No,_ she thought sadly, relieving for the hundredth time that moment and wishing she could go back and do it differently. _I'm not. See? See, I got what I fought for._

 _I wish I could show you._

Mia suddenly squinted at her with the worried, watchful eyes of someone concerned, and she must have seen something in her cousin's face because her own expression changed. Realization came first, and then sorrow. All of those evasions, all of those odd, awkwards moments, the strange dearth of _him_ in Olivia's vernacular began to make sense.

Somehow in this moment, it began to make sense. Mia couldn't explain why, but it did.

Mia brought Olivia into a tight, comforting hug, a strange, discordant tableau in the middle of the merry group, as she played that scene in her head, the last time Olivia Pope had seen Fitzgerald Grant.

* * *

 _Several months previous._

For a moment, Olivia was stunned and immobile. The sensation of Fitz's lips crushed upon hers seemed foreign, wrong. Then her rational mind floated away and left her with the sensations as the kiss deepened.

She had been kissed before. The act in itself was not a revelation. The feel of Fitz's body, with its firmness, its warmth, was a pleasant surprise, bring with it twin sensations of security and excitement. His hand loosened at the nape of her neck and his fingers brushed the skin there, sending chills skittering down her spine. She was hyperaware of his other hand trailing down her shoulder and then her arm. Her nerves sparked in its wake. He parted her lips with his tongue, and when it slid against hers, something about the contact jolted her from the intimate cocoon of the moment.

She pushed him away and sucked breaths in and out to ease the lightness of her head. Her mind raced with the understanding of what just happened between the two of them. Mortification and dread twisted in her gut.

"Fitz," she managed, eyes luminous.

Fitz raised his eyes from the carpet to her glimmering eyes. "Olivia, please let me explain—"

She turned away from him, shaking her head. "No. It was a mistake. We'll just pretend it never happened." She picked up her wine glass and walked toward the kitchen. "We both had too much to drink, got carried away by seeing each other again after long." She reentered the living room, forced herself to stare at him. "Fitz, we can't. What happened just now… We have to forget it."

"Forget it?" The open hope and vulnerability on Fitz's face transformed, turning his face into a mask of anger and hurt. "Do you think that what just happened means nothing to me?" He came toward her but was careful not to get too close. Olivia reminded him of a skitterish animal. If he got too close too quickly, she would run away.

Her lips parted and her mouth trembled as she took a step back, intimidated by the fervor pumping off of him. She peered into his eyes, currently a morose and stormy slate-blue. The emotion in them seemed more frightening than if he had felt nothing when they kissed. It meant...it meant there existed a chance that this whole time, he had harbored feelings for her.

And even more, she possibly may have carried around some for him.

"We're friends, Fitz," Olivia reminded him in a low tone. "We can't be anything more."

"You can't tell me you felt nothing just then, Olivia. You can't tell me that. I don't believe it. You wouldn't look so damn afraid if it meant nothing." He moved forward, she back. "You don't want to even try? To figure it out."

Tears sprang in her eyes. "No, Fitz! I don't. I don't want to try." Breathing labored, she turned and went into the kitchen. She needed that wine after all.

He found her gulping down the crimson contents of the glass she had poured herself earlier as if it would soothe her racing heart and parched throat. She set the glass down with a _clank_ and gripped the edge of the counter so hard her knuckles nearly split her skin. He watched her, and sorrow and bitterness overtook him.

"You're a coward, Olivia."

She froze, her spine stiffening. Her head shifted slowly in his direction, and it was her turn to look wounded. "I...am _not_...a coward," she ground out. "You were rash and we got caught up in a moment. That was all that was. It needs to be forgotten."

Allowing him no moment to argue, she pushed away from the sink and exited the kitchen and headed toward down the hall. He stood where the carpet met the hardwood and tried to slow his rapidly beating, slowly fracturing heart. He heard a door open and then close. He spied Olivia nearing with a pillow and blankets. He shook his head and stalked back into the living room as Olivia deposited the contents onto the arm of the couch. Without stopping, he went for his open suitcase, threw the clothes he had worn during the flight inside and gave the zipper a vigorous tug.

Her voice came out strangled. "Where are you going?"

"I...I can't stay here," Fitz said, mouth set in a line. He wouldn't even say her name. "I'll just get a room somewhere."

Something leapt into her eyes then. A part of her realized that if she let him walk over her threshold that she may never see him again, may never mend this. "You can't just leave." He ignored her and placed the suitcase on its wheels so he could extend the handle. "Don't walk away from me, Fitzgerald."

He met her anguish with defiance. She should have known better than try to order him around. She had listened to him for far too long to forget that was ill-advised and never ended well. This would be a case in point, for years to come.

"Watch me," Fitz snapped. He opened her door and stalked out of it, slamming it behind him without a backwards glance.

The sound of the door abruptly meeting the frame made her jump. But it was the silence that fractured her. The moments ticked by, and eventually it became clear he was not going to return. The sound of her shuddering breaths amid the emptiness usurped the rigidity from her limbs and she found herself buckling under the weight of the implication of what had just occurred. The sobs clawed their way out of her, ravaging her insides with the force. She buried her face in the pillow she'd intended for his use and allowed herself to mourn.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Notes:** _Oh shit. *smacks forehead* What have I done? *lays head on desk* Okay. This is going to be interesting._

 _One of the seeds I planted last chapter is going to sprout. The other one ends up being a red herring so to speak but came in handy for a nudge. If it seems the scenes are meandering...just wait. Things manifested themselves in an interesting way and I created a relationship that I intend to use later to bring our protags together much later on. I know. I'm bad, I need to stop. A random thought: one of the things that bothers me about canon is that most of the relationships are so toxic. I love bouncing characters off one another and giving canon characters good, healthy connections. Of course, there's going to be angst anywhere._

 _Again, for those of you wanting Olivia and Fitz to resolve their issues, don't worry, it **will** happen. Olitz is our final destination, but I'm taking the twisty scenic route. They're also about to see each other again after that whole kiss debacle very soon (but not in this chapter, in the next)._

 _P.S.: "Snuggle Bunny" was the nickname for my goddaughter when she was younger. I couldn't help it. A shout out since she's partially the cause of this chapter being late. The other part was my rebounding immune system. I just passed my birthday and I spent the days leading up to and the days after getting rid of a pesky cold. Ugh. Oh well._

 _Thank you all for reading and reviewing. I feel awful that this has taken me so long and I hope it is enjoyable._

 _P.P.S.: I may have to make a flashback into a certain couple of references. You'll recognize them._

* * *

 **Disclaimer:** _Scandal and any related characters ain't mine. Any unrecognizable and/or cringe-worthy characters **are** mine._

* * *

 **Songs in This Chapter:** _"Say You'll Be There" by the Spice Girls, "Lean on Me" by Club Nouveau, "Everytime (Instrumental)", "Ooh La La La" by Teena Marie, "Wanna Be Startin' Somethin'" By Michael Jackson, "I Adore You" by Caron Wheeler_

* * *

 **Five**

 _New Year's Eve, 2014._

That night, a little bit after eight, Fitz stood on the porch at the Wolfe residence and rang the doorbell.

After the announcement of him and Rachel becoming the new partners at the firm, the day had passed in a blur. He had a vague recollection of the public relations team taking a picture of the new partners to accompany the press release and giving Quinn her rightful reward for guessing correctly. The day's vast and varied implications didn't dawn on him until this very moment while he was standing there and listening to the sounds of the party drifting toward him.

 _I did it,_ he had thought. _I'm a partner now._ Realizing his hard work had not gone unnoticed made him grateful rather than arrogant. He had the fleeting urge to call his father but had squelched it like one would a nagging fly. The conversation would end badly.

A dark-haired woman in blue answered the door. The frozen welcoming smile on her face had faded into astonishment at the sight of the tall man in the tuxedo in her midst. She raised her trembling left hand to her mouth, and the tanzanite, garnet & diamond wedding ring twinkled softly under the light. His expression underwent a similar change.

"Fitz?"

He blinked at the elegant woman in front him, reconciling her with his mind eye's image of Irene's tomboyish oldest daughter who had become a sister of sorts during that stage of Fitz's life after he had walked away from his domineering father for good. The last time he had seen her, he had just graduated law school, and she had dropped out of medical school and announced she was going to study culinary arts abroad.

"Jess?"

The woman's olive-hued eyes lit up and her features relaxed into a more familiar version of her welcoming smile. "It really _is_ you. I thought Mama was joking." She stepped back to allow him inside. Once he was over the threshold, she closed the door and gave him a hug. After a moment, she stepped back to examine him at their close proximity. "Damn, Grant. You went and got all sophisticated and smooth on me. And look at that, you did your bowtie all by yourself this time. I wish I had a cigar."

"Like you should talk. Look at you. I almost didn't recognize you without the boots and large T-shirt." She chuckled and gave a small shrug. "Your dress is actually _not_ on backwards. Did they teach you how to be a girl over across the Atlantic too?"

She nudged him good-naturedly and snorted out a laugh. "Very funny." One of the servers for the party approached her with a drink and she thanked him. "Come on. I'm sure you don't want to spend the whole party here in the foyer with me. We'll have plenty of time to catch up." She took a small sip of her drink and led him toward the party. "The twins and I'll be in town for a while. David insisted...for reasons."

"Is your husband here?" Fitz asked as he fell into step next to her.

Jessica shook her head, her happiness diminishing a tiny bit. "No, he is on assignment at the moment. He was home long enough for...certain things to happen...and then he was right back out the door." She gulped down her drink and forced a smile. "That's what I get for marrying someone in clandestine services." Wanting to shift the focus, she slanted a frown at him. "So when are you going to make an honest woman out of one of my kind?"

He rolled his eyes to the ceiling exasperatedly. "I can see your mother asking me that. I can see your stepfather asking me that. I can even see Cyrus asking me that now that he and his James have adopted their beautiful baby girl. But _you_ , Jess? That's almost blasphemy." He pointed an accusing finger at her. "You have been bitten by the love bug and now you're trying to pass along the venom."

"What can I say? Not having my husband of seven years around for a better part of the year makes me want to be..."

"Meddlesome? Scheming? Wicked?"

"I was going to say _helpful_ , Fitzgerald. I seem to recall some of the specimens you've brought around over the years. Remember the stalkerish one with the big teeth—what was her name? Margaret? Maleficent?"

Fitz choked out a chuckle. He had no choice but to laugh at this point; enough years had passed since the Debacle Formerly Known as Dating Millicent to render the recollection amusing instead of annoying and slightly horrifying as it had been at the time. The woman had given Jennifer Jason Leigh's character from _Single White Female_ a run for her money. "You mean Mellie?"

Jessica raised a finger in realization. "That's the one! You dodged a bullet on that one, Grant. No pun intended."

"Of course I did. She was aiming at you, not me. That right cross was a thing of beauty."

"I'm more proud of the running tackle than the fact that I knocked out her front teeth." She lifted her glass. "Gotta love adrenaline." They walked along in silence for a few beats. Head at a thoughtful tilt, Jessica admitted, "Believe it or not, I figured you would've gotten with Olivia Pope eventually. Isn't that funny?"

The same jolt from earlier hit him and he quietly sucked in a breath. He had forgotten that Jessica had met Olivia Pope at his law school graduation. The aftermath of that moment had been immortalized in photo; the picture of him jubilant in a cap and gown sandwiched by Cyrus, Jessica, Olivia and Harrison used to sit framed on a shelf. He had replaced it with the photo from the same day of only him and Jessica goofily posing for the camera. There was another with him, Olivia, and Harrison, but it too was relegated to a shoebox on a high shelf in his closet.

Of course, it didn't help that Fitz had slipped Olivia into conversation every now and again. He had realized, after his months-long examination of the past, that he had been smitten by Olivia for longer than he cared to admit.

"I didn't think you remembered her," Fitz admitted quietly.

"Why wouldn't I remember her? She came up in pretty much every remotely vital conversation you and I've had in the past fifteen years." She paused thoughtfully. "Up until a few months ago..." She slowly turned her head to look at him reproachfully. "Fitzgerald Thomas."

He met her stare head-on. "Jessica Catherine."

"What did you do?"

He quirked an eyebrow. "I hate that you automatically assumed that _I_ did something."

Jessica gave a dry chuckle. "Grant. Come on. It's _me_. I pegged you walking in on your asshole of a father banging his mistress within ten minutes of meeting you." She gulped down more of her drink. Fitz furrowed his brow at the discomfiture that flitted across her face. His mind amid the jolt it had gotten from Jessica's mention of Olivia Pope was attempting to come to a conclusion, but it had not dawned yet. "How badly did you screw it up?"

A spurt of defensiveness rose inside him. "I didn't screw—" Jessica gave him a bland stare that was damn good. She must have learned it from her husband. Fitz huffed out a breath. "Okay. Fine. I so I may have messed things up enough that we're not speaking to one another."

"Mhmm. You tried to take things to the next level, didn't you? And she wasn't ready?" Fitz looked distinctly uncomfortable as they hovered outside the double doors that led to the spacious den. She shook her head in disapproval. She stood there silently a while trying to find the right words to say without alienating him completely, eyes sweeping the room. She caught her mother's eye and gave a tiny wave. Brightening, Irene excused herself and began to make her way across the room. Jessica abruptly turned to Fitz and said, "I would yell at you but my mother and your boss is coming." She placed her hand on his shoulder. "But later. I'll rip you a new one. Later."

"I'll be waiting," he said wryly.

"Bring some Preparation H. And a doughnut," she quipped out of the side of her mouth.

They both stood at attention and smiled as Irene came onto the scene. Irene smiled back until she spied the glass in her daughter's grasp. "Jessica Catherinec" she began in a chiding tone.

"It's ginger ale, Mama," Jessica insisted in exasperation. "I was feeling a tiny bit nauseous."

Irene immediately softened and stepped forward to cup her daughter's face. Jessica's eyes flicked in Fitz's direction and he tried not to grin. She hated being babied something fierce, which made it amusing for Fitz to observe. "Oh, darling. You know it'll pass. In a couple of months you'll be back to normal."

The answer came to Fitz in a flash. "Wait. Jess, are you...?" She raised an eyebrow when he trailed off and glanced around. He made a rounded belly gesture in lieu of saying it aloud.

Jessica made a face. "Maybe." _Pause._ It was his turn to give her a bland stare. "Okay. Fine. Yes I am. My husband was locked and loaded and planted a good one in me before he left. Happy now?" Irene, wide-eyed and mortified, began to scold her for being vulgar when Cyrus and his James came up, having just arrived themselves. Jessica took the opportunity and ran into the end zone. Irene eyed her back with a disapproving frown. Fitz squelched the urge to gape in astonishment. "James! Uncle Cyrus!"

"There she is!" Cyrus announced heartily. Jessica kissed both of James Novak's cheeks before turning to her uncle of sorts. She laughed when Cyrus swung an arm around her shoulders and kissed her on the forehead. "Now if we could just make that husband of yours appear..." She groaned in protest and he shook his head vigorously. "No, no. I don't want to hear it, sweetie. Stop making excuses for that man. If he really wanted to be home, he would be."

"Cyrus," James warned. He gave Jessica an apologetic look while Cyrus gave an eyeroll. "You'll have to forgive your uncle, he's decided not to start his resolution of being less cantankerous until after the clock strikes midnight." The apologetic look transformed into concern as Jessica went distinctly green. "Jessica, are you—?"

"I'll go get you more ginger ale," Fitz offered. She narrowed her eyes at him as he smoothly took the empty glass from her, not sure if he wanted to help her or if he was exacting revenge for his impending ass-chewing. When he winked, she glowered. It felt like old times.

He sauntered away toward the kitchen where the servers had set up their headquarters. He passed a couple of guests and stopped for a quick hello. They offered congratulations for his promotion before he remembered his mission and dashed away, apologizing for his abrupt departure.

So intent was he that he neglected to note the curly-haired, mocha-skinned woman going the opposite direction.

Their bodies colliding knocked the melting contents of the glass onto her black-and-raspberry-colored dress. She yelped in surprise. The shock of the event made him fumble the glass, but luckily he didn't drop it. He quickly took stock of the area, noticed the ice cubes at their feet that had yet to melt. He knelt and began to pick them up, blurting out an apology over the _clink_ of the cubes as they fell into the glass.

Then he found himself staring up into a pair of brown eyes twinkling with mirth. When their gazes met, her full mouth quirked into a small smile that dulled his brain and shot warmth through his veins. He recognized the reaction for what it was: the punch of attraction. He had given women a cursory glance over the last several months, gone out on a few dates, but nothing had sparked him until that first glance of this mysterious woman.

 _Grant, you must be slipping,_ he chided himself silently. He had more finesse than this. Usually.

But then she spoke and he felt one of those unusual times quickly approaching.

"Are you generally this clumsy?" she asked in a teasing tone. He noted at once her accent, placing her origin somewhere within Great Britain. Somehow that made her even more appealing. "Or are you just rubbish around beautiful women?"

* * *

Miles away, Olivia lowered her hand and stared into her vanity mirror at the image of her cousin adjusting her royal purple cape top gown over her shoulders at the full length on the back of Olivia's bedroom door. Music played softly in the corner.

Olivia felt marginally better after telling Mia that she'd had a fight with Fitz. After the announcement at Kaminari, Mia had followed Olivia to her apartment for a heart-to-heart over a gargantuan bowl of freshly popped popcorn. Getting the secret she had carried for months off her chest was cathartic. Mia remained by her side most of the day, and she had only gone home briefly to retrieve her dress and accessories for the evening's party. And then Mia surprised Olivia by merely keeping quiet. The silence was comfortable, undemanding. They cleaned up the mess and watched movies before deciding to prepare for the New Year's Eve party at the Halliwell Hotel later on that evening with little exchange.

"That dress looks great on you," Olivia remarked, then went back to her makeup.

"Thanks," Mia returned, smoothing down the fabric over her belly. She turned away from the full-length and met Olivia's gaze in the vanity mirror. "But you and both know— _your_ dress wins the prize this evening." She came over and wrapped her arms over Olivia and placed her chin on her bare right shoulder. The jewels on Olivia's teal-hued one shoulder gown twinkled subtly in the light as she moved to clasp Mia's forearm. "You okay?"

Olivia shook her head a bit and went back to applying her makeup. "You make it seem like I just went through some heinous breakup. We had a fight. It's done."

Mia winced a bit as if to say **_but you're…sort of…acting like it…?_** She kept her mouth shut, deciding to take care with her next words. She really didn't want her cousin to start swinging at her, she didn't want to match her dress with bruises. "I just…he was in our lives for a long time, Liv. Fifteen years is nothing to sneeze at."

Olivia placed the mascara wand back into the tube and shifted. Mia had to let go of her as she turned to face her. "He called me a coward, Mia. I can't just overlook that as if it never happened."

Mia held her tongue and said instead, "So yes, he did _some_ of the wrong in this scenario. And trust me, when I see him again, I _will_ tell him so. However…" Mia knelt down in front of her cousin. "Let me ask you something. Do you remember Eva Beard from elementary school?"

Olivia's eyeroll indicated that she did. She was surprised that Mia didn't make her check _yes_ or _no_ to answer the question. "Mia Corrine, you are not dredging up some 25-year-old bullshit from first grade to prove your point."

Mia lifted a shoulder. "It's precedent. Gotta make my case. Anyway, she was your best friend, right? Matching lunchboxes, bracelets, secret jokes—the whole nine. She was over your house so much I thought Aunt Maya was going to adopt her and make her last name Lewis. And then during Spring Break our first grade year what happened?"

Olivia sighed. At the time she thought it had been such a betrayal. But then again, she _had_ been six. "She taught Tasha Perry our secret handshake without asking me first."

"Exactly. You froze her out so thoroughly I'm pretty sure the girl was breathing icicles until she hit puberty."

Olivia crossed her arms over her chest. "You exaggerate, Mia." Mia gave another shrug and waited. "So are you saying that I need to clear things up with Fitz before he turns into a walking Mr. Freeze?"

Mia rose and smoothed herself out. She snickered at the mental image before schooling her features to more somber lines. "I mean…okay. Think of it this way: we're adults now. Every true bond we make has to be for keeps, and forgive me for sounding like I miss the dude, but I thought you had a true bond Fitzgerald Grant. How many fake assholes have tried to come and set up shop within our circle before we kicked them out and bolted the door behind them? Lord, I can't even count. But we can't afford to burn bridges over dumb shit. Who knows if we'll ever see that person again?"

Olivia hated to admit it, but Mia was right. She had neglected to think of the future, of an existence completely without Fitz, friends or not. And yet...

"I'm…not ready," Olivia admitted. Mia's head inclined faintly and she stared at Olivia silently. "I'm not ready to face him yet, Mia. Maybe that is cowardly, but I admit that I can't."

After a while, Mia looked down and nodded. She let out a deep breath. "I understand."

The knock on the door broke the spell of that somber moment and Mia disappeared to answer it. Olivia inhaled deeply and then held it, hoping to force away the shakiness she felt. When Abby entered her bedroom, she squared her shoulders and mustered up a smile.

"Hey sexy mama," Abby greeted her. She glided across the room, a column of shiny pewter, to give Olivia a hug. Olivia stood there in her embrace without moving for a minute. She heard Mia and Michelle coming down the hall. Abby pulled back to assess her. Olivia heard a pleased hum in her throat at the sight of Olivia's dress but when her gaze lifted to her friend's face she frowned. "Something's up with you."

Mia shouted from the bathroom to ask for Olivia's sewing kit. Olivia shouted back that she would bring it to her. In a lower tone, she said to Abby, "Sometimes I wish you weren't as observant as you are."

"Liv, you're my friend. Do you think I can't tell when something is wrong?"

She unearthed the sewing kit from her closet and gave it to Mia. When she walked back into the room, she avoided Abby's gaze and went to her vanity. She picked up her perfume and dabbed a bit at her pulse points. Finally she said, "Aren't you going to ask me what's wrong?"

"Nope." Olivia whirled to stare at her in surprise. "That's not important to me right now. Besides, if you want me to know, you'll tell me." Abby neared and then placed her hands on Olivia's shoulders. "Do you know what I _do_ care about right now?"

Olivia peered at her and then snorted out a laugh when she spied the answer dancing in Abby's blue eyes. "Not a damn thing."

"Not a damn thing," Abby confirmed. "It's the last night of the year, I just got off working ten days straight at the Halliwell and if I see another honey bun it will be too damn soon. I'm not worried"—she took Olivia's hand and spun her in a circle—"about a damn thing. We're going to party hard and leave this year behind. And maybe wake up in a bed that doesn't belong to us. Whaddya say, sexy mama?"

When Mia and Michelle entered, they discovered Olivia and Abby dancing. Michelle joined in, leaving Mia n the doorway. Mia caught Olivia's eye. A humming moment passed, and then Mia smiled before jumping in.

* * *

The rapid clicking of heels and raised voices broke him from his reverie. He shifted to find Jessica hurrying his way, face flushed and mouth pinched. Cyrus was on her heels, bellowing for her to come back **_because you know I'm right and you can't bear to admit it!_** He sighed and the curly-haired woman helped him to his feet. Beautiful young woman with whom he had collided momentarily forgotten, Fitz caught Jessica and she furiously broke away to respond at Cyrus. Refusing to be deterred, Fitz reached out and yanked Jessica toward him. He didn't see it, but the young woman raised an eyebrow at the display.

"Stop of it, _both_ of you," Fitz commanded. Jessica fumed and Cyrus shook his head in disbelief but they had gone quiet. He regarded them both, family without blood, and softened his tone. "I doubt rehashing an age-old argument is the way you want to ring in the New Year. So kiss and make up. Who knows, you may not get to."

For a moment, nothing happened. Finally Jessica turned away, looking troubled. "I need to check on the twins, excuse me."

James and Irene arrived then and noticed Jessica leaving. James admonished his husband while Irene started to go after her daughter. Fitz shook his head and went instead. In his wake, Irene turned to the curly-haired woman, who looked a bit shell-shocked, and offered to help. She accepted, watching Fitz leave with a faint sense of regret.

Meanwhile, upstairs in the guest bedroom where Jessica and her children had settled, Fitz watched Jessica fling her blue dress on the bed and stalk around angrily in an oversize shirt and pajama pants. The twins barely stirred.

"Why are you angry?"

Jessica yanked pins from her hair and deflated her careful up-do. "What kind of question—?"

"I'll repeat it: _why are you angry?_ " Jessica did not answer. She snatched up her dress and disappeared into the closet. "You and I both know that you are too smart for a cantankerous asshole like Cyrus to get under your skin." He heard her inside the closet, furiously moving things around. "Unless he _is_ right, in some twisted, regrettable way." He waited. It went quiet. He stuck his hands inside his pockets. A few moments later, Jessica appeared, leaning on the doorframe. "Is he right, Jess?"

Seconds eked by. Finally, Jessica murmured, "I asked him not to go. And he agreed. But he still went anyway." She shuddered out a breath and drifted toward him. "He doesn't know." Fitz removed his hands from his pockets and brought her close for a hug, she appeared in desperate need for one. "He…doesn't know…what's about to happen yet." She rested her cheek on Fitz's chest and cried.

"I'm sure it'll be all right," Fitz soothed. "Whatever happens, however it happens. And when you tell him, he'll be the happiest man in the world." The words _I know I would_ floated in the air, unspoken, and Jessica felt a new form of heartache fill her at that moment. She couldn't bear to look at him yet, struggling with her own misgivings and reminded of the reality that she possessed, in some aspects (definitely not all), a life that Fitz would have wanted the chance to experience.

After a short while, Jessica groaned. "Damn hormones," she muttered crossly, trying to lighten the mood. "I should've been able to argue my way through that damn argument instead of turning all emotional on everyone." She looked up at him and wiped her eyes. "Next time I get all crazy, Grant, just smack me. I can't have feelings fucking with my reputation. They'll think I'm a softie."

Fitz smiled. "Now that's the Jessica Thomas I know and wish to shake." She rolled her eyes, but he caught the gleam of mirth within them. They stood like that for a minute before Fitz ruffled her hair and she glared at him. "I take your change of clothing to mean that you're not going to return to the festivities?"

Sobering, Jessica inhaled deeply. "I…think I'll stay up here. I've got all these…" She winced a bit because she was at a loss for words and made an impatient gesture. "Things floating around within me. I might throw something at Cyrus, and I know how much James and Ella love him. And I guess I love him too. Not to mention changing the logo again at the firm would be a pain in the ass if he croaked." She fell silent and watched him. Fitz looked at the floor thoughtfully. When he raised his eyes, she shook her head at the resolve in those blue depths. "No, sir. Fitzgerald Grant—you are _not_ about to—" She pressed her lips together as Fitz took off his tux jacket and threw it over a chair. "Damn it all. You never listen to me."

"You don't need to be alone," Fitz insisted. "One false move and you'll end up face down in a bag of Milano cookies."

"And you don't need to waste your time placating your hysterical sister," Jessica shot back. "Look at you. Tuxedos were _made_ for men like you, and what a place to flaunt it?" She picked up his jacket and shoved into his grasp. "Now go down there and find your future wife. Or booty call. Take your pick."

"Mummy?" The small voice made them both turn. A dark-haired six-year-old stared at them sleepily from under a curtain of hair. Fitz stared at the child, seeing a bit of the woman standing in front of him within her features. He experienced several feelings at once: awe and fascination seeing a smaller version of a person for whom he cared, anger and disbelief that a man would leave this behind, longing that he yet had nothing like this of his own, hope that someday he would.

"Annie bear, there's someone I want you to meet," Jessica said softly. She reached down and hefted her onto her hip. Fitz watched the act silently. "This is your Uncle Fitz. Forgive him, this is the first time he's seeing you, too."

After introductions, during which little Annie asked Fitz quite plainly **_where have you been?_** , they entertained him with stories, effectively bridging the gap between the last time Fitz had seen Jessica. Fitz himself offered stories for the girl, causing her mother to protest laughingly many times. Somehow, the little girl's double remained soundly asleep. Jessica explained that one of her sisters had worn Annie's twin brother out that day.

He barely noted the passage of time; Annie slowly warmed up to him, sensing that her mother was not trying to offer a replacement for her absent, beloved father. By the time midnight neared, he shared the window seat with Jessica and her daughter; Annie was in his lap and he counted down to the New Year wistfully.

Jessica and Annie fell asleep shortly after the fireworks ended. Fitz carried them from the window seat and tucked them into bed with her twin son, marveling at how vulnerable they appeared in slumber. His gaze flickered over the photo of Jessica and her husband on the nightstand before he leaned down to place a chaste kiss on Jessica's forehead.

As he descended the stairs, Cyrus spotted him from the foyer. The two men met at the bottom of the staircase, Fitz with his hands in his pockets and Cyrus sheepishly scratching the back of his head.

"How bad is she?" Cyrus inquired.

"A little shaky, but she'll come through." Cyrus sighed, tired. "You know, grilling her on her husband right now is not the best idea. Especially since she's carrying their third child and she's petrified he won't come home."

Cyrus paled. "She's what?" He sighed again. "Damn. Cynical Cyrus strikes again. Ten dollars for the Cynic Jar. We'll be able to go to Disneyland by summertime at this rate." He rubbed a temple. "I'll apologize in the morning." He glanced toward the hallway leading toward the den. "Listen, I don't know if I've said it yet, but..." Fitz looked at him expectantly. "Just because you are partner now doesn't mean you can shirk your duties as godfather." Fitz sighed but the corners of his mouth lifted into a smile. "If we continue on this path, you may get to see Ella before she graduates high school."

"Fine. I'll come over this Sunday for dinner." Cyrus started to speak but Fitz added, "With Jess _and_ the twins."

Cyrus grumbled something about the inconvenience of cooking for a master chef but did not refute. They said goodbye after setting a time for dinner. Fitz watched Cyrus walk away and join James with family on his mind. He strode away from the staircase, intending to find Irene to tell her goodnight and wish her Happy New Year.

"Is your friend okay?"

Fitz stopped abruptly at the accented female voice and turned. He found the curly-haired beauty from earlier that evening, except now she wore a leather bomber jacket over her gauzy black and raspberry colored dress. She peered at him, an inquisitive gleam in her eyes.

"I'm sorry?" he managed.

"When you went dashing off earlier and left me behind with watered-down ginger ale on my dress," she clarified. "She looked upset."

"She was," he confirmed soberly. "Damn, I am _so_ sorry. I didn't mean to leave before taking care of you. That was rude of me."

"I guess I can forgive you, considering the circumstances," the woman said wryly. Fitz opened his mouth to thank her when she pressed, "But you still didn't answer my question."

"I…uh..." He looked down at his feet and stuffed his hands in his pockets to gather his thoughts before starting again. "Actually...she's more than a friend." Her eyes dropped fractionally as if disappointment was coming over her. "She's family." She raised her eyes in surprise, showing that she understood. "But she's resting. She'll be all right." His head tilted faintly and he stepped closer. Not too close, but just enough. "I never caught your name."

The woman smiled enigmatically. "I never threw it to you."

He had to chuckle. "I guess I had that one coming," he muttered, mostly to himself.

A humming pause fell between them. He could tell she was assessing him but offered himself for the scrutiny without a word. Finally, she relented and told him, "Claire." Bemusement marred his brow. "My name is Claire."

 _So she has a name._ Fitz extracted a hand from his hand to offer her to shake. "Very nice to finally meet you, Claire. I'm—"

"I know who you are," she interrupted. His eyebrows lifted in question and she lifted a shoulder nonchalantly. "Well, when you left me all wet and lonesome I had to make do on my own."

His mind recognized the double entendre immediately and his mouth dropped open as his mind attempted to wander in _that_ direction—but he yanked himself from that path. She laughed at his reaction and her cheeks flushed. "I'm so sorry, I couldn't resist." She reached out for his hand and clasped it with her own. Her palm was soft and warm, and coupled with the spike of his pulse from her earlier comment, the sensation had his heart thrumming. "It's nice to meet you, too...Fitzgerald Grant."

She released his hand and stepped around him. She strode toward the door when he asked, "So...I suppose this is my penance for leaving you to make do on your own?"

Claire paused in mid-step and looked at him over her shoulder. "What do you mean?"

Keeping her gaze, Fitz inched closer until he stood close enough to smell her perfume. "What would you say if I admitted that I...wanted to see you again? Without acting like a clumsy idiot?"

After a beat, her lips curved. "I would say..." He gazed at her expectantly. "...that...I'll find _you_ when I'm ready. Fitzgerald Grant."

With that, she left. Fitz watched her walk away with a mix of regret and anticipation. He possessed no idea what would happen or if he would actually see this woman again. But he did know one thing.

 _He liked the way she said his name._

* * *

The New Year's Eve party at the Halliwell Hotel was well underway, and Olivia found that forgetting her worries, albeit fun, was only temporary.

She had found refuge in this quiet spot on the balcony. Her cousins and friends remained inside, at her back, enjoying the champagne and nibbles. She imbibed enough to lose herself for a couple of hours. Somewhere within the eleventh hour, she found her steam running out and reality crept into her mind. Slipping away without notice, she took her thoughts where she could examine them without interruption.

Her conversation with Mia before Abby and Michelle arrived at her apartment some time ago stuck in her mind. She had told her cousin that she wasn't ready to face Fitz after what had happened. _Maybe I'm being silly,_ she realized. However, Fitz had taken part in this dance of avoidance, so she felt unsure if he would respond the way she wanted.

But how _did_ she want him to respond?

 _There are so many things in the world that you could think about,_ she chided herself. _Stop obsessing over this and—_

As if on cue, someone spoke from behind her. "I would like to think someone who just reached a three-year-long goal would look a little less like she lost her goldfish."

Olivia jumped at the sound of the masculine voice at her back. She whirled and found Kaneshi Tsukimori leaning on the doorway, grasping a glass of champagne. In his Armani tuxedo sans bowtie, he appeared stylish and faintly concerned. Behind him, the New Year's Eve party continued without them and provided an interesting backdrop. She had not realized that he had arrived or even had been invited to the party in the first place. _Have I been out here that long?_ she mused.

"I was just having an introspective moment," Olivia admitted, feeling horribly exposed. She hated that feeling, and looking at him made her feel even more vulnerable so she shifted her gaze to the sky. "It's a good night for that sort of thing."

The crunch and scrape of his shoes over the balcony floor heralded his coming near, and she felt his presence as he paused next to her. "Looking back at the past can be extremely educational...though you run the risk of wallowing in emotions you thought were long buried." He tilted up the glass at his lips and took a long pull. "If you linger too long, you risk being run over by them." He let out a soft sigh and a sorrowful smile ghosted at the edges of his mouth. After a moment, he looked at her meaningfully. "You can't stay in seclusion forever, Ms. Pope."

She met his stare. "I wasn't planning to." She looked over her shoulder at the guests within the ballroom. She spied the fiery mane of Abby as she danced with an attractive male specimen. She felt a twinge of regret realizing everyone was having fun without her that was dulled by the liquor in her system. "Life goes on whether you like it or not."

"Hmm. So why don't you come back inside?" She shifted to look at him. There was a faint glimmer of challenge dancing in the depths of his eyes. "The loss of your presence in there is rather conspicuous."

Olivia's head tilted a bit but still felt a smidgen of skepticism. "I didn't know you noticed, Mr. Tsukimori."

Kaneshi lifted his shoulders in a shrug. "What can I say? My stepmother speaks highly of you, and I find myself curious about the woman who has captured her attention and initiated this movement that has my father's school astir."

"And once your curiosity is satisfied?"

Kaneshi sobered a bit at the note of distrust in her tone. "You underestimate my attention span, Ms. Pope."

That sentence hummed between them for a long moment. Suddenly inside the ballroom, the music stopped and the emcee announced that the countdown to midnight had begun. They both turned toward the sound. Kaneshi took out his phone to check the time as Olivia caught Abby's eye, and the redhead brightened. She crossed the room with Harrison, Monique, and Michelle with her husband trailing behind her.

"Now _this_ is where it's at!" Harrison declared when they filled the balcony. "Front row seat for the fireworks show."

"Just don't crawl under the chair like you did crying when we were five years old," Michelle teased.

Harrison scoffed and everyone laughed, even Kaneshi. Abby eyed him standing next to Olivia and smirked. She linked arms with her friend and gave her a meaningful nudge as Harrison complained. "'Chelle, seriously? We were five. Do you know how crazy shit seems when you've only been in the world five years? And it sounded like Armageddon on our damn roof. Cut me some slack, all right?"

"But you were still cowering under your bed the next morning, though," Michelle reminded him. "Admit it. You were being a little bitch."

Abby raised an eyebrow at Kaneshi and Olivia blushed. Abby drank her champagne with a knowing grin but said nothing.

"Can we not?" Harrison was demanding. "We've got like thirty seconds before midnight and I really don't wanna have to explain to Aunt Carmen how I had to kick your ass at the turn of the New Year."

Isabelle with her husband Mark and Marisol joined the group right then and Harrison greeted them by asking Isabelle about the cocaine treats. "Does everyone know?" Isabelle asked in dismay. The others responded in the affirmative.

"I say you give me your recipe and I sell them at Halliwell," Abby said sagely. "Cut you a nice profit when the masses become addicted. Everybody wins!"

"Can we talk about this next year?" Harrison quipped.

The occupants in the room behind them shouted Eleven! and Abby rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress the snort. "You are so ridiculous, Harrison."

"Shut up, y'all are _missing_ the countdown!" Monique scolded them, moving closer to the railing. Harrison mimicked her behind her back and everyone tried to stifle their laughter. Monique glared at him but he ignored her and raised his voice with everyone else's.

 _Five! Four!_

Olivia felt something brush her hand and looked to her left. Kaneshi had stepped up to her side and the hem of his tuxedo jacket had brushed her hand. They shared a glance before looking above in anticipation of the fireworks.

 _Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!_

The cacophony of noise-makers and cheers filled the space with jubilance. Olivia found herself wrapped up in hugs as the ball room broke out into "Auld Lang Syne." She heard Harrison talking to Kaneshi and wondered how long it would take someone to ask about what happened before they had all appeared.

Suddenly, Isabelle asked, "Has anyone seen Mia? I figured she would be with us."

"I'm right here!" They shifted to discover Mia bounding toward them, hand-in-hand with Sam.

Monique crossed her arms over her chest. "And where have _you_ been?"

Instead of slanting her nosey little sister a glare per usual, Mia looked down at the ground demurely. "Well…you know...I was just off...getting proposed to..."

The balcony froze in shock. Mia held up her left hand and Sam placed his chin lovingly on her temple. An engagement ring twinkled in the light of the fireworks on her ring finger and Olivia, Michelle, and Abby gasped in unison. "We're getting married!" she announced under the pop and sizzle of the fireworks.

Olivia, Michelle, and Abby squealed in happiness and converged upon Mia. Isabelle grabbed Mark's hand and covered her mouth as happy tears filled her eyes. Harrison yelled something like about damn time! and smacked Sam on the shoulder in approval. Everyone hugged Mia until Monique pointed out they were missing the fireworks. The group had shifted closer to the balcony railing and Olivia found herself in the back. She felt a hand on the small of her back and before she could react she felt the brush of lips on her cheek.

"Happy New Year, Olivia," Kaneshi murmured into her ear, before stepping back to look at her. Something in his expression made the statement seem more like a salutation, a sign that things were just getting started.

Not quite sure how she felt about that revelation, Olivia smiled politely up at him. "Happy New Year, Kaneshi."

He exited, weaving his way through the party-goers who had drifted toward the balcony to observe the fireworks. She peered at his retreating back for a moment before turning away. Abby came up then and wrapped her arm around Olivia's shoulders. She gave a knowing smile that caused Olivia to blush and be thankful for the dark.

* * *

Five days later, Olivia turned off her morning alarm and sighed wearily.

The break was over and the first day of the second semester was in her midst. Her body protested the end of the vacation but her mind was happy to get back to work. She hoped with a bit of coffee and food, the two would agree.

She rose and readied herself as usual. While eating breakfast, she scrolled through news stories and social media on her tablet. She was gulping down the last of her coffee when her phone beeped because she had a new message. She activated the screen to reveal the message.

 _Greetings from Istanbul. "Begin as you mean to go on, and go on as you began." Wishing you a good first day back. -K_

Olivia pondered upon the words, not sure how she felt about them at first. Kaneshi had checked on her on New Year's Day, citing that he'd gotten her number from Suzume. Their conversation had been brief but telling. He didn't push her into going out with him or seem overly flirtatious. He merely encouraged her to enjoy her free time and offered his wisdom if she found it necessary.

Finally deciding to be pleased, Olivia's lips curved as she typed out a quick response. _Thanks for the well wishes. You have a good day as well. And have a safe trip home._ She put away the breakfast dishes before making a final sweep of her apartment, making sure everything was turned off and in its place. When she was satisfied, she left.

She arrived at Kaminari early enough to beat the first students arriving. She headed toward the main office to grab her mail before going to the administrative wing to visit her cousin before the day began. She found Mia behind her desk typing and looking a bit bleary-eyed. She picked up her favorite mug and lifted it to her lips. Her eyes strayed toward the door where she found Olivia.

"Oh hey," Mia said, taking another quick sip. "Good morning."

"Good morning," Olivia greeted her. She caught sight of the vase of flowers at the corner of Mia's desk and raised an eyebrow. When she fell silent, Mia flicked a glance in her direction and spied where her attention had gone.

Mia sighed. "It seems the news of my engagement made it to the Big Man and he sent me a garden in a vase."

Olivia leaned in to smell the flowers and hummed in appreciation. "They're lovely." _Pause._ She shook her head in dismay. "You'll have them dead in a day."

"Don't worry, Mari's gonna take them." Mia turned away from her monitor screen and stood. "So...am I right to assume you'll have a plus one for the party?"

Olivia blinked at Mia as she wove her arms through her suit jacket. "Plus one? I don't understand what you're implying."

Mia have her that tight-lipped, squinty-eyed Auntie smile that she hated so much and pinched her cheek. "You're so _cute_ , Olivia Carolyn," she drawled. Olivia made a sound of disgust and followed Mia out of her office. "As if we all suddenly have gone blind." She crossed her arms over her chest. "Don't try to play Barbarino and pretend like you don't know what I am talking about."

Olivia responded archly, "I don't. So enlighten me."

"New Year's?" Mia prompted simply. Olivia groaned and rolled her eyes upward. "I may have been hopped up on copious amounts of bubbly and proposal juju but I clearly spotted _something_ going on between you and Mr. Hottie McMogulpants—and I am not trying to say it's _something_ yet—but it was enough to be noticeable, Liv."

"He was just...being nice," Olivia protested. "It's not even the way you're implying, so don't even go there."

Mia raised her hands in a gesture of defeat. "All right then, stepping away from the line." _Pause._ "But—"

"Mia—" Olivia began in a warning tone.

Mia held up a finger. "But if you _wanted_ to bring him, I would not judge you. All I am saying. In addition, you know Auntie Maya is going to give you the side-eye for coming stag. Might as well save yourself 300 days of her riding your ass and give her something pretty to look at so she doesn't ask you about freezing your eggs over the potato salad again."

Olivia shuddered. During Christmas, her mother had expressed her _concerns_ —using the term loosely—that Olivia was over thirty and still without husband or child. The topic had come up over Christmas dinner, and Olivia had wished Mia had undercooked the turkey again so she could have escaped her mother's scrutiny.

"You're right," Olivia agreed, nodding emphatically. "You are very right. Especially since... _certain people_ won't be there..."

Olivia trailed off, sensing something strange had happened. She looked to Mia to voice her concern...but Mia wasn't walking beside her anymore.

Mia was stopped in the hallway a couple of yards behind, looking like she was seven again and broke her father's five-disc CD player. Olivia frowned and turned to face her. "What? What is it, Mia?"

"Um..." Her cousin bit her lip nervously. "How much do you love me?"

Olivia squinted at her as dread filled her stomach. She was having flashbacks of seventh grade when Mia uttered that question every other week. "What did you do?"

"Well, see what had happened was, Sam and I were talking about who should come to the engagement party because you know his mother's just going to use it to invite all of her snotty little friends which neither one of us wants so we were trying to think of as many people we both liked as possible and..." She winced, bracing herself for Olivia's reaction as Olivia halted a foot in front of her. "I invited Fitz."

* * *

 _ **From:**_ _"Mia C. Johnson"  
_ _ **To:**_ _"Fitzgerald T. Grant"  
_ _ **CC:**_ _"Samuel A. Lawrence"  
_ _ **Subject:**_ _Keep Your Shotgun in the Closet_

 _Happy New Year! Hope all is well in your hood. Anyhow, this is just a pre-notification, if you will. The official invite is already in the mail and on its way. But if you haven't heard, Sam and I are engaged. I know, I know—go ahead and check the Weather Channel. Hell is still hot and the polar ice caps did not become a tropical oasis._

 _At Sam's mother's insistence, we are having a party on March 23rd (since it coincides with Spring Break here at the Academy) to commemorate the occasion. Sam and I would love if you were able to make it. I absolutely understand if you cannot, I know you are a busy man, but I wanted to make the attempt._

 _Just let me know! Hit me back!_

 _P.S.: What's up with you and Olivia?_

 _Mia Johnson  
Faculty Administrator_  
 _Kaminari Academy_

 _._

 _._

 _ **From:**_ _"Samuel A. Lawrence"  
_ _ **To:**_ _"Mia C. Johnson"_ _  
_ _ **Subject:**_ _RE: Keep Your Shotgun in the Closet_

 _Babe. Seriously. Stop trying to be Iyanla, you can't fix everything. If I were you, I would stay the hell away from whatever angst-encrusted madness is going on between your cousin and the hunk attorney with the luscious hair. And speaking of which... Do you think I'd get his volume if I grew mine back out?_

 _Wait. Don't answer that._

 _Anyway. The moral of the story: just say no to drama._

 _No more pain._

 _No DRAMA._

 _Love,  
Snuggle Bunny_

 _._

 _._

 _ **From:** "Mia C. Johnson"_ _  
 **To:** Samuel A. Lawrence"_ _  
_ _ **Subject:** RE: Re: Re: Keep Your Shotgun in the Closet_

 _Sigh. I really cannot stand your goofy ass. Even though I am cackling to high heaven, I still cannot stand you._

 _And on a side note... Whatchu know about Mary J? Lemme hit send before I get fired and you won't get any sandwich meat in your Ramen this evening._

 _xoxo, M_

* * *

Fitz peered at the email message on his screen, filled with conflicting emotions. He felt happy for the couple for surmounting their earlier issues and taking things to the next level. On the coattails of his second-hand happiness was a sharper feeling of loss with a dull ache of speculation. _How was she doing now? What did she think of this?_

 _I'll probably never know._

 _But you could,_ the little voice in his head reminded him. Sometimes he really wanted to smother that little voice.

A knock on his opened door broke his attention from his computer screen. Rachel Smith stood in the doorway, no-nonsense and dominant in red. She came to Fitz's desk with a file in hand and determination in her eyes. As he focused on her then glanced at the clock, the reason for her presence dawned on him.

"Are they here?" Fitz asked, rising from his chair and grabbing his formerly discarded jacket in the same movement. They had a meeting with counsel from another firm on a case they were working together. He had been preparing for it when the message from Mia had come and thrown him off track.

"Angela just put them into the conference room. Thought I'd make them sweat for a few minutes." Rachel frowned as Fitz rounded the desk to join her. "You good?"

Fitz started to lie and say that he was, but something propelled him to tell the truth. He had not been too terribly close to Rachel before their promotion; she had kept herself distant from him, but he found that changing after a few lunches after the new year. "Just got something on my mind."

They strode out of Fitz's office and down the hallway. "Work?"

"No." He could sense Rachel's barely veiled curiosity. After a few steps, he admitted, "Trying to decide if I want to open a can of worms."

Rachel looked at him sidelong. "Grant. That almost sounds like you're ready to give up, which is rather...uncharacteristic for you. You know what Wolfe would say."

Fitz exhaled heavily. David Wolfe lived his life fearlessly and encouraged everyone around him to behave in kind—something which annoyed his wife to no end. "Unfortunately. I'm surprised he hasn't gotten it on a T-shirt yet. Let me not say that too loud, don't want to give him any ideas."

Rachel stopped right outside the conference room door. "Look, you have two choices. Run or handle it. You've always been a _handle it_ type of man in my opinion, so why stop now?" She punched him lightly on the shoulder. "Man up, Fitzgerald."

 _Why stop now?_ _Why stop,_ indeed. "Aye, aye Captain," Fitz returned, prompting a quick smile from Rachel. Fitz cleared his mind and followed her into the conference room in full-on work mode.

After the meeting when he sat behind his desk, Fitz unlocked his computer and was faced with the email from Mia again. He also had a new message from a sender he didn't recognize. He clicked on the new message with a tiny furrow of his brow. The frown transformed into a smile after he had skimmed the message.

 _ **From:** errantdreamgirl { at } gmail { dot } com_  
 _ **To:** ftgrantiii { at } thomasbeenewolfe { dot } com_  
 _ **Subject:** I'm Ready Now_

 _I'm addicted to risky business._

 _Dinner tonight at 8? Show me how smooth you are._

 _-C_

Short and sweet but still stunning.

 _She's good,_ he thought in admiration.

He responded with a huge grin on his face and noted the time on the calendar in his phone He went back to his inbox, noting Mia's unanswered message directly after Claire's short missive. He sucked in a breath and opened it. The pointer hovered over the _reply_ button _._

He took a moment to check himself, tossing around the possibility of going to the engagement party. Seeing Mia and Sam again. Seeing Harrison, Abby, Monique and Michelle again. Seeing _her_ again. The months of silence had made that possibility loom larger than it had normally would.

 _Things are often much simpler than we make them out to be._

"Oh what the hell," he conceded. Having made his decision, he punched in Quinn's extension and listened to the couple of rings before she picked up.

"Yes?" Quinn said expectantly.

Fitz drummed his fingers on his desktop, working through possibilities and plans. "Do you mind to put something on the calendar for me?"

* * *

 _ **From:** "Fitzgerald T. Grant"_  
 _ **To:** "Mia C. Johnson"_ _; "Samuel A. Lawrence"_ _  
_ _ **Subject:** RE: Keep Your Shotgun in the Closet_

 _Thank you for the pre-notification. I would be honored to count myself as a guest to your engagement party. I will mark the date on my calendar and plan to see you then. Hopefully there will not be a zombie apocalypse between now and March 23rd._

 _As to the question of my well-being, I assure you that everything is wonderful. As you can see below, I am now one of the partners here at the firm. Happy New Year indeed._

 _Take care. I will be in touch._

 _Fitzgerald Grant III  
_ _Attorney  
_ _Thomas, Beene, Wolfe, Grant & Smith_


End file.
